


Dividing Lines

by Drazyrohk



Series: Not Quite a Redemption Story [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Bathtub Sex, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Evil plots, Gen, Hand Wave-y Science, Hurt/Comfort, Masturbation, Medical Procedures, Multiple Orgasms, Mystery, Nightmares, Political Alliances, Post-Canon, Prejudice, Robo-gore, Robot Feels, Spark Sex, Tactile Sexual Interfacing, Torture, Vomiting, Wrongful Imprisonment, shocking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 53,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4401143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drazyrohk/pseuds/Drazyrohk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When ghosts from the past start dragging all of his terrible deeds to the forefront, Knock Out finds his new home a much less friendly place to be. </p>
<p>Takes place immediately after 'I Want to Say, This Isn't What it Looks Like'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to the second part of my series, Not Quite a Redemption Story. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Warnings: Angsty robots swearing a bunch.

There were times when silence spoke volumes louder than could ever be voiced. Silence didn’t speak up, it descended. It enveloped. 

The silence in the bridge room was so thick, Knock Out could practically taste it. He hadn’t paused in his work, but the quiet stillness seemed to swallow every sound produced by his hands swiftly plugging leaks and pulling damaged cabling free of the wound in the side of the young mech he crouched over. 

There was damage to his t-cog, but it didn’t look fresh. It also wasn’t the cause of a wound, but rather a virus long eradicated. Knock Out filed this information away and tried to devote as much of his attention to the red and white mech as he could. 

The mech who had been assisting him at first was now standing and staring across the bridge room. Knock Out was momentarily distracted by the waves of rage and betrayal rolling off of him, and even more distracted by the sudden jolt of panic he felt over the newly formed bond between him and his Conjux, Wheeljack. 

“You.” There was so much venom in the standing mech’s voice that Knock Out looked up to see who he was addressing. 

“Perceptor.” Wheeljack said from across the bridge room. “You’re alive.” 

“No thanks to you.” Perceptor growled. 

The young mech Knock Out was working on gurgled and coughed, the medic reaching up and unclasping the face mask the mech wore. 

“You left me for dead!” Perceptor said furiously, and Knock Out felt his EM field erupt with anguish. 

“I would never have done that.” Wheeljack protested, Knock Out sucking air in through his vents sharply and attempting to clear the Energon pooling in his patient’s mouth away. “You know I would never have done that!”

“You ran away like a coward!” Perceptor shouted, then he was moving away from Knock Out, moving towards Wheeljack with intent. “You ran and you left me there to die!” 

“Well you’re not dead, so that’s obviously not true.” Wheeljack’s voice had taken on a familiar edge. 

Knock Out patted the faceplates of his patient to draw his attention. “Hello, little one.” He said cheerfully. “Can you tell me your name?” 

“F-first… First Aid.” The young mech gasped, Energon escaping from several of his vents as he tried to frantically cycle air. 

“Don’t panic, First Aid.” Knock Out said. There was a large shard of metal lodged in First Aid’s protoform, the source of his heavy bleeding, but there was no way Knock Out could remove it here on the floor. “We’re going to have to get you to the med-bay so I can treat you properly. Don’t move, alright?” He looked up at the others, seeing that Ultra Magnus had moved between Perceptor and Wheeljack to keep them from coming to blows. “A little help here, please?” 

Bumblebee was the one who responded first, the former Scout shaking Bulkhead out of his stunned reverie and bringing him over. “Figure it would be easier for Bulk to just pick him up. Unless that won’t work?” 

“As long as he isn’t jostled too much, it’ll be fine.” Knock Out replied, and Bulkhead nodded, leaning down to gingerly gather First Aid in his arms. 

_Keep me updated?_ Knock Out asked through the bond, Wheeljack glancing at him and giving him a stiff jerk of his head that qualified as a nod. Springer also looked over at him, a dangerous glint in the large Wrecker’s optics. 

“You got this, Bulkhead?” Springer asked.

“I’ve got this. C’mon Doc Knock.” Bulkhead said, shifting First Aid to a more comfortable position. “He’s not as light as he looks.” 

“Commander, we’re taking First Aid to the med-bay. Please comm me if you need anything, sir.” Knock Out said to Ultra Magnus, who made a noise of affirmation, his mouth turned down. 

“See that he survives.” Springer said. “You might not like what’ll happen if he doesn’t, ‘Con.” 

Knock Out waited for someone to say something, someone to tell the Wrecker off, but they were all just shifting uncomfortably where they stood. “I will give nothing but my utmost best, Springer.” He finally said himself. “Under my care, you can expect First Aid to make a complete recovery.” 

Of course the Wrecker scoffed, but Ultra Magnus spoke up, told him to mind his manners while speaking to an Autobot officer. Knock Out urged Bumblebee and Bulkhead to follow him to the med-bay. Hot, prickly embarrassment tinged Bulkhead’s field while Bumblebee kept his own tight to his frame and guarded. 

 

It was the small hours of the morning before Knock Out heard anything from Wheeljack. He was in the washracks, attempting to clean the Energon from the joints and seams in his arms when he felt an affectionate pulse along the bond. Turning, he saw Wheeljack leaning against the door frame, watching him with a smile. 

“Well?” Knock Out asked, turning back to continue washing. He felt arms snake around his torso and the weight of a chin drop onto his shoulder. He offered a short, somewhat irritated but fond pulse through their bond, and Wheeljack ex-vented. 

“Gotta hate it when your past comes back to bite you in the aft.” He said, grumbling beneath his breath. 

“What exactly was the sniper shouting about?” Knock Out asked, letting Wheeljack assist him with a particularly difficult spot on the underside of his arm. 

“Last time I saw Percy, he’d been shot through the spark by a ‘Con piece of slag. I thought he was dead, so I went to find said piece of slag and proceeded to beat him to death with my bare hands. Perceptor, being the picture of logic and sound reason he is, figures I ran like a sparkling and left him there to die.” Wheeljack explained far more calmly than Knock Out would have expected. Still, the Wrecker pulled back away from him and ex-vented once more, slowly and deliberately. “I thought he was dead.” He repeated. 

“I thought Autobots were usually better behaved than that. Mind you, I guess Perceptor IS a Wrecker.” Knock Out turned off the tap and moved to towel down, Wheeljack going back to grumbling. “They can be awfully rude.”

“Suppose, yeah.” Wheeljack muttered. He was putting more distance between the two of them now and avoiding Knock Out’s optics. “Look, there’s somethin’ I gotta tell you.” The medic looked over at him expectantly, which just deepened the Wrecker’s discomfort. “Perceptor and I were lovers.” When Knock Out continued saying nothing, Wheeljack’s armor began to bristle defensively. “We shared one night together and talked about maybe makin’ things a bit more serious, but then, the war, and he was shot and…” He trailed off, scarred mouth twisting. 

Knock Out stared at him, then turned away. He carefully folded his towel and draped it over his arm, his EM field making the room feel a few degrees cooler. “Worst. Honeymoon. Ever.” He said, stepping towards the door. 

“KO.” Wheeljack followed swiftly, though his footsteps shuffled to a stop when they both noticed Ultra Magnus standing just up the hall. “Come on…” Wheeljack said, reaching out to take Knock Out’s arm. 

“I need a word with you, doctor.” Ultra Magnus called, Knock Out glancing at Wheeljack before nodding at the Commander. 

_We’ll talk later. At length._ Knock Out said to Wheeljack, who visibly deflated behind him with all the grace of a kicked turbo-fox. 

The Commander escorted him not to his office, but into the comm room. A few of the Vehicons who were working looked over but returned to their work almost immediately. One of them greeted the Commander politely and with a little wave of its hand. The buzz of private comms was anything but surreptitious but if it bothered Ultra Magnus, he didn’t express it outwardly. 

“I’ve already spoken to Springer regarding this manner but thought it best to also speak to you.” Ultra Magnus said, drawing himself up to his full and rather impressive height. “I will not tolerate any poor behavior on this base. Not from you, not from him, not from anyone. If he antagonizes you, I expect you to report it to me without resorting to any retaliation.” The Commander then turned to look around the room. “That goes for the rest of you as well. There will obviously be some things that will take getting used to, but I will not hesitate to punish or incarcerate anyone who breaks the rules.” 

The Vehicons looked at him, looked at one another, then began vowing up and down as one that there would be no problems on their end. Knock Out regarded Ultra Magnus without speaking while they said what they needed to, waiting until the Commander’s attention was on him again. 

“I trust we will all be safe?” Knock Out said, Ultra Magnus’ optics widening. “We made a vow when our war finally ended. We are here, serving a new cause, the remnants of what we used to be just scars that only show up in the right light. Will we be safe from the overzealous who weren’t here to see the end?”

“I am you Commander. I also took a vow to protect all those who chose to follow me when I stepped up to fill Optimus Prime’s position.” Ultra Magnus said in a level voice, though there was a very hard edge to it. “I am nothing if not a mech of my word. I will continue to see justice is served, Knock Out.” 

“Then by all means, I will avoid seeking personal retaliation for anything Springer or any other Autobot might throw my way in the days to come.” Knock Out lifted his chin and met Ultra Magnus’ optics. “Petty revenge is so rude.” 

Magnus donned an almost imperceptible frown. Nodding sternly, the Commander turned to go, uttering a quiet dismissal. Knock Out watched him, then briefly shuttered his optics and vented in something like relief.

“Thank you.” One of the Vehicons said in a hushed voice above him on a comm platform. Knock Out looked up at it, arching a brow. “That was really nice of you.”

“I think he was just acting in self preservation.” A second Vehicon leaned over, waving a hand dismissively. 

“No.” Said the first. “He said ‘we.’ As in all of us.” 

“I can stand up for myself just fine.” Knock Out interrupted the arguing drones. “I might not be the most heavily armored or armed, but my frame isn’t going to crumple like tissue paper if someone pats me on the back.” 

“See?” Vehicon 1 said pointedly, the other scoffing and returning to its work. “Thank you again, sir.” 

Shrugging his shoulders and shaking his helm, Knock Out turned and left the room. He had to go find his Conjux. They had a lot to talk about.

 

 

Bulkhead stifled a yawn behind one large hand, looking up at the vast, star strewn sky above him. Sitting next to him, Wheeljack drained the cube of high grade he was holding and opened his vents to let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. 

“I gotta admit, I’m a bit worried about you, Jackie.” Bulkhead said softly, Wheeljack frowning over at him. “Things have been happening really fast. It’s been crazy.” 

“Yeah, guess it has.” Wheeljack said, tossing his empty cube to join the small pile of others behind them. “Still can’t believe so much of the old crew’s shown up.” He paused, shifting where he sat. “They probably shouldn’t know about me and Knock Out. Not yet. Just gimme some time to tell ‘em.” 

“I can’t see that blowing up in your faceplates.” Bulkhead muttered, and Wheeljack gave him a pained look. “It’s not a good sign that you want to hide it from them. And that you’re asking me to lie about it.”

“What do you mean?” Wheeljack frowned a little more, Bulkhead sitting up straighter. “Bulkhead?”

“I just mean… maybe you shouldn’t have rushed it. Maybe you and Knock Out should have taken a little more time to figure things out before jumping in with both feet.” Bulkhead said, rubbing the back of his helm. 

“I’m a Wrecker. We do everything by jumping in with both feet, Bulkhead.” Wheeljack said, optics narrowed. “Is it cause he’s an ex-Con?” 

“It’s not that.” Bulkhead said, and Wheeljack believed him. “It’s just… really out of character for you. You’ve never been the type to settle down, Jackie. Since we met, you’ve always been on the move. You crave wide open spaces, new adventures! I can’t help feeling that maybe you should have waited to see if this was really what you wanted.” 

Wheeljack was silent for awhile, staring up at the sky. He drummed his fingers on the ground in irritation, and he seemed to be musing over what Bulkhead had said. Still concerned, Bulkhead watched him but didn’t break the silence. 

“I thought I was in love once before. I told you that.” Wheeljack said after a time. “Me an’ Percy… I thought that was it, Bulk.”

“I remember that conversation. I thought you were drunk.” Bulkhead said. He would have chuckled, but it didn’t seem appropriate. 

“I was gonna ask to court him. Just had to get the nerve… Then that fraggin’ Decepticon came around again. It wasn’t enough that he had taken all my friends, I was witness to him takin’ my lover too.” Wheeljack clenched his hands into fists and lowered his optics. “I was an engineer, I wasn’t a fraggin’ medic. I didn’t know Perceptor survived that shot.”

“That’s not your fault, Jackie.” Bulkhead said, putting a hand on Wheeljack’s shoulder. “I don’t know how anyone could have-”

“Blah blah blah.” Wheeljack batted Bulkhead’s hand away and scowled. “Y’know what I did after I killed that son of a bitch? I learned how to prevent what happened to Perceptor from happenin’ to anyone else. I trained as a Wrecker, sure, but I also trained briefly as a field medic. Trauma specialization!”

Bulkhead’s optics widened and he sat back. “That’s how you saved Knock Out.” He said, Wheeljack sneering at him. 

“I saw it all happenin’ again. All of it happenin’ right in front of me and I couldn’t let it.” Getting to his feet, Wheeljack began pacing. “I never meant for it to get to that point! It was just flirting, and then it was just fragging, but then… the Insecticons… and on the ship, I-”

“Wheeljack, what if what you’re feeling for Knock Out is some sort of PTSD? Cause of what happened to Perceptor?” Bulkhead exclaimed, also standing. 

“Don’t be so fraggin’ stupid, Bulkhead.” Wheeljack said, jabbing his finger into Bulkhead’s chest. “I hadn’t even thought of Perceptor until I watched KO get gunned down in front of me. It’s not PTSD.” He annunciated every letter with vitriol and bared his denta. 

Wheeljack’s anger simply grew when Bulkhead’s shoulders slumped and he looked away. There was guilt and regret radiating from the larger mech’s field. 

“Jackie, I…” Bulkhead started, but anything else he wanted to say trailed off and he closed his optics. 

“You were a lot more supportive a week ago.” Wheeljack said. “Maybe Springer’s rubbin’ off on you. I’m done here.” He waved a hand and turned to go inside. “I’m goin’ to recharge.” 

 

 

Wheeljack honestly couldn’t say he was surprised that Knock Out was standing just inside the door wearing a slightly guilty expression. 

“I want to say, this isn’t what it looks like, but if it looks like I’m eavesdropping on you, it’s because I am.” Knock Out said, stepping closer. “We need to talk.” 

“Not here.” Wheeljack said, lowering his optics. “Med-bay.” 

“Med-bay?” Knock Out arched a brow and folded his arms. “Why the med-bay? Why not our room?”

“One of us might need the med-bay once we’re done talkin’.” Wheeljack gave him a rather cheeky expression and Knock Out rolled his optics. 

“I wish I could say you’re wrong about that.” He said, gesturing for Wheeljack to follow him. 

They made their way to the med-bay without encountering more than a few late shift Vehicons, a few of which seemed happy to see Knock Out if their cheerful greetings were any indication. Once the doors were locked and they had settled across from one another, Knock Out in a chair and Wheeljack leaning on a med berth, the medic folded his arms again. 

“I don’t think Bulkhead was completely wrong.” He said, Wheeljack staring at him like he was speaking in tongues. “About this being rushed.” 

“Maybe.” Wheeljack said in a rather petulant manner. “You havin’ second thoughts?”

“No.” Knock Out said. 

“Good. Cause I ain’t either.” Wheeljack lifted his chin defiantly and drummed his fingers on the med berth. 

“Still. Bulkhead isn’t wrong. We did rush this. Normally there’s a great deal more time between the initial ‘I like you’ to the actual bonding process. While I don’t regret it and I’m fairly sure I have strong enough feelings for you to have bonded to you, it was still a little more whirlwind than I would have liked. I believe I might have mentioned that a time or two before.” Knock Out said, frowning. 

“I love you. I’ve said it a few times and I still believe it. I need you to believe it too.” Wheeljack said, straightening. “I kinda don’t care if we rushed it.”

“I do believe it. I can feel it.” Knock Out stated, nudging the bond. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not feeling a tad less confident about where I stand now, though. Especially when adding the first love of your life into the mix.” 

“Remember that conversation we had? The one about Breakdown?” Wheeljack said in a level voice, Knock Out flinching. “Same rules apply here, KO. Don’t compare yourself to him. Don’t think you’re some sorta replacement for him. He doesn’t even register on the same level as you.” 

“But he did once. That’s the problem.” Knock Out said, shifting and glancing away. “I know you’re the sort that, once committed to a thing, doesn’t just flit off when something potentially more exciting comes along. But it seems these Wreckers are awfully persuasive, whether they’re meaning to be or not.”

“I loved him once, Knock Out. But then he died. He was dead to me. I learned to get past the pain I felt, losing him. I learned to let go.” Wheeljack ex-vented weakly and closed his optics tight. “I was never bonded to him so I can’t say that I understand exactly how it felt when you lost Breakdown, but I can assure you that you mean more to me than Perceptor ever did. Alright?”

Knock Out made an indeterminate noise and shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes a mech just needs to hear it put into words.” He said, Wheeljack groaning and putting his hand to his face. 

“Spoiled brat.” Smirking, the Wrecker met his optics. “I think we ought to get some rest. There’s probably going to be a lot more slag to deal with tomorrow.”

“You go. Recharge. I’m going to stay and get some work done.” Knock Out said, getting to his feet. “While I think it’s a terrible idea, I’ll respect your initial decision to keep our relationship a secret from the Wreckers for the time being, but I think you ought to tell them before they find out from someone else.” 

Wheeljack grimaced, then nodded. “Guess the honeymoon’s over.” He muttered. 

“I have no doubt we’ll make it up to one another in the future.” Knock Out raised a hand and waved with a brief smile, and Wheeljack hesitantly left the med-bay. After his Conjux was gone, Knock Out reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Seriously. The worst. Just the worst honeymoon.” He said to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: None besides a little bit of robo-gore

There was a new desk in the corner of the med-bay. Said desk was covered with what appeared to be personal items, including a framed picture of Thunderclash that was signed and a disturbing number of Autobot badges sitting in one of the unlocked drawers. 

Knock Out stared at the pile of badges, wearing a bewildered expression and attempting to figure out exactly what this desk and its things were doing here. 

On his own desk was a data pad bearing Ultra Magnus’ personal glyph, and Knock Out could feel a sinking sensation in his tanks as he picked it up to read it. 

It wasn’t as bad as he feared. But it was far from good. 

First Aid was a junior Medic during the war. Seeing as wartime was officially over, Ultra Magnus had taken it upon himself to promote First Aid to medical officer as long as he agreed to do training once a month with Ratchet on Earth to make sure everything was up to date in his databanks. 

That meant Knock Out and First Aid were officially the same rank. While that ensured Knock Out still had a job, a position, it also meant that he was no longer the only one running the med-bay. 

Also on the red grounder’s desk were a box of energon goodies and what appeared to be a half finished bottle of premium high grade. Attached was a small note, politely worded and appropriately grateful, thanking him for what he had done when the Wreckers first arrived. 

“Ah!” A small exclamation sounded behind him, Knock Out turning to face the source. “You received them. Good.” 

“I believe this is the first time I’ve ever been given a gift for doing my job.” Knock Out said. First Aid was smiling behind his mask and visor. There was practically a happy face dancing above his head, such was the force of his delighted EM field. 

“I really do appreciate it.” First Aid said, moving to put his armload of data pads and tools on his desk. “Everyone’s so surprised I recovered so quickly. You did amazing work on my frame, there’s hardly a scar to be seen!” 

“But of course. I was the best cosmetic surgeon on Cybertron.” Knock Out said with a smirk. “Still am, obviously.” 

“I look forward to working with you.” First Aid said, and despite Knock Out’s efforts to find the sarcasm, the lie in his words, the small mech seemed genuine. 

“Really?” He asked, and First Aid turned to him with curiosity in his field. “You must have missed the memo your friends were already well versed in when they arrived.” 

“Oh, I know who you are. What you did.” First Aid said, beginning to straighten his belongings. “I choose to let a person’s deeds speak louder than their past. You saved my life. That’s what matters to me right now.” 

It was a refreshing view of things and a surprising turn of events. All thoughts of the discomfort of a tense, passive aggressive work environment disappeared and Knock Out reached down to pick up the bottle of high grade. 

“Later, when we’re done for the day, we ought to toast to that.” He said, First Aid’s optics crinkling behind his visor as he smiled. 

“That would be nice. But our shifts are alternating so there’s always someone here in the med-bay. I’m afraid we may have to wait.” He said in reply, Knock Out twitching a brow and lowering the bottle. 

“How convenient.” He said quietly. 

 

The good feelings didn’t last. Only a few hours into the overlap of their shifts, and Knock Out found himself looking up from where he was patching the armor of a Vehicon who had picked a fight with some engineering equipment at the quiet murmur of his name. 

“I need Wheeljack’s medical files transferred over to me. For some reason, Commander Magnus wants me to take over his primary medical care. He didn’t specify the reasons over the comm, only said that the files would make it clear why.” First Aid said, and Knock Out felt a little slither of discomfort in his back struts. 

“I’ll get on it just as soon as I’m done here.” He said, First Aid thanking him and slipping out of the room. “Now, would you like to be honest with me about where you got this wound… what was your name?”

“SR-7538.” The Vehicon said immediately. “And I was. It was an engineering accident. Sir.”

“Uh huh. This damage was clearly caused by some sort of pressurized hydraulic fluid.” Knock Out jabbed his tweezers into a particularly tender part of the wound he was tending to and SR-7538 yelped. “So either your accident involved a Combiner, you were working on the Space Bridge without permission, you were doing something you shouldn’t have been on the Nemesis or you’re conducting unauthorized experiments.” 

“It was, uh, the last one.” SR-7538 said with a flinch as Knock Out continued with treatment. “But it’s not unauthorized. I had permission from Commander Magnus!” 

“Given that I don’t believe you would actually lie about that, I will accept that for the time being.” Knock Out said with a smirk, looking up when the door opened again. 

“So sorry.” First Aid said softly as he poked his head in. “I believe someone moved the Number 7 clamps? I can’t seem to find them.” 

Knock Out looked pointedly at the Vehicon on his table. 

“I borrowed a few of your tools. Commander Magnus said I should ask first, but you were in surgery and I didn’t want to bother you. I meant to bring them back, but I was still using them when I got in my accident.” SR-7538 said hurriedly. “I can tell you where my lab is, if that’s satisfactory?” 

“Hm. I think I might be able to improvise.” First Aid mused. “I’ve never done denta replacement surgery without clamps before, but you never know! I might learn something new!” 

Before Knock Out could protest, First Aid ducked out and closed the door behind him. 

“So, I’m going to give you some medicated cream to put on the wound. It will keep it from rusting while your internal repairs take care of it.” Knock Out said, his patience beginning to fray. “And I want you to stay away from your project until the wound is healed.” 

“Yessir.” SR-7538 said with a nod, sitting up and swinging their legs off the med berth. They tilted their head up at him and their field took on a cautious feel. “How long will that take?” 

“I’m not sure. It all depends on how well you follow my instructions.” Knock Out said. “Now go. I’ve done all I can.” 

He opened the door for the Vehicon, who saluted him cheerfully as they exited. He then made his way into the med bay proper and stopped short. 

Wheeljack was laying on a med berth with a shattered optic, a stupid grin on his scarred face and at least half a dozen dents on his chassis, some of which were oozing. Springer was strapped on another med berth, his mouth held open by a short metal rod and First Aid bent over him. Kup was leaning against one of the walls closest to Springer, his arms folded and an amused look on his face. His ever present cygar was missing and he was wearing a mesh bandage on one of his hands. 

“Full house tonight.” Knock Out said, giving his Conjux a long, searching look before moving to see if there was anything he could do to help First Aid. “This is why you needed the clamps?”

“I can’t just hold his mouth open while I work.” First Aid said. “The rod works so long as he doesn’t move around too much. It won’t take long to replace these, I don’t think.” The younger mech held up three dislodged denta, and Knock Out’s brows arched in surprise. 

“What in the name of Primus happened to you three?” He asked, Kup letting out a snort. 

“We were lobbing and Springer missed.” Wheeljack said. 

Springer’s field had spiked with irritation and disgust as soon as Knock Out got close. He was glaring up at the medic, but Knock Out pointedly ignored the look. 

“You can temporarily fuze the joints of a mech’s jaw by applying the proper amount of charge to them.” He said, Springer’s optics widening. “I can show you the technique.” 

“Really?” First Aid’s visor brightened. “Would it keep him from biting me? Or attempting to? His mouth is the only thing I couldn’t strap down to keep him from moving.” 

“It ought to.” Knock Out tried very hard to keep Ultra Magnus’ request in mind. “But it might be easier just to go and get those clamps. Is there anything that requires immediate attention?” 

“Just Springer’s denta.” Kup said, drawing Knock Out’s gaze. “Jackie’s wounds can wait.” 

“I’ve had worse.” Wheeljack said, still grinning. “Take your time gettin’ those clamps, Red. Springer earned that lob ball to the jaw.” 

Springer rolled his optics and the buzz of his personal comm filled the air around him. 

“Yep.” Wheeljack said. “Definitely earned it.” 

_You seem to be enjoying yourself_ , Knock Out said as he headed out of the room. 

_It’s sort of nice to be able to act like a Wrecker again_. Wheeljack replied, a fond nudge reaching him through their bond. _Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks. I was having fun til Springer broke the glass on my optic and I had to shove the lob ball in his face._

::Oh, Knock Out?:: First Aid said over the comm. 

::Yes?:: Knock Out turned the corner and looked around for some sign of SR-7538. 

::I downloaded all of the medical records in the public medical databank. When I’m done here, could I grab the password for the private banks?::

::That shouldn’t be a problem.:: Knock Out spotted a group of Vehicons loitering in the rec room, making his way over to them. He debated just telling First Aid about he and Wheeljack. First Aid wasn’t a Wrecker, and Wheeljack had only said not to tell the Wreckers, and the second the younger mech looked at Wheeljack’s private medical records, his bonded status would be on it and the cat would be out of the bag. ::I'll just give it to you now. The password is Elsevier.::

::Who or what is that?:: First Aid asked. 

::Largest distributor of scientific and medical literature on Earth.:: Knock Out said. ::I’ll be back with the clamps in a few moments.::

“Hello Doctor Knock Out!” One of the Vehicons chirped as he approached, a chorus of voices doing much the same. 

“Hello. I’m looking for SR-7538.” He said, one of the Vehicons moving through the crowd. “You’re not wounded, so I take it you’re not SR-7538.” 

“No sir, I’m not.” The Vehicon said. “I’m RF-2364. But I do know where SR-7538 has set up their lab and that’s where they are currently. Something about clamps?”

“That’s what I’m here for.” Knock Out smiled. “Point me in the right direction, please, RF-2364?”

“Down that hall. Converted supply closet. Watch out for the extension cords.” The Vehicon said with amusement in their voice. 

“Thank you.” Knock Out turned to head in the direction indicated, his personal comm pinging again. ::Find everything alright?::

::Yes.:: First Aid said. He didn’t sound nervous, which was either a good sign or a bad one. ::I think I understand why Ultra Magnus asked me to take over Wheeljack’s medical care.::

::Probably something to do with conflict of interest.:: Knock Out smirked, knocking on the supply room door and glancing at the long, thick extension cords littering the hall around it. 

::Something like that.:: First Aid said. 

The door opened and SR-7538 held up a pair of clamps without saying a word. Knock Out took them, thanked the Vehicon quietly and turned to go. ::I suppose you ought to treat it as a case of doctor patient confidentiality. Or doctor doctor confidentiality.::

::Is there such a thing?:: First Aid mused. ::Don’t worry. If it’s not public knowledge, I won’t say a thing.::

::I appreciate your discretion. On my way back to you now.:: Knock Out debated taking his time, but the sooner First Aid finished with Springer, the sooner Wheeljack would be fixed, so he made haste. 

::Thank goodness. I can’t wait to clamp Springer’s mouth open so he’ll stop talking. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy but he really likes the sound of his own voice.:: First Aid said ruefully, Knock Out sending him an amused glyph and heading back into the med-bay.


	3. Chapter 3

“You wanna fraggin’ run that by me again?” Springer narrowed his optics, mouth turned up in a wide sneer that bared his denta. 

Wheeljack was beginning to regret the decision to break the news to his fellow Wreckers over drinks. He had invited Kup and Springer to join him in the rec room for some high grade that he had spent half the day convincing Ultra Magnus to let them have ‘for old time’s sake,’ hoping that it would create a calmer, more laid back atmosphere. He had obviously been off the mark about that.

“Can’t fault him for it, Springer. ‘Sides, you’ve done worse.” Kup mumbled around his cygar, though his brows were furrowed and his arms were folded. “How much do you know about him?” 

“Everything.” Wheeljack said honestly, putting his hand on his chest. 

“Great!” Springer said, letting out a harsh laugh. “So not only are you fragging him, you’re BONDED to him? What the actual frag, Wheeljack?!”

“The good doctor’s got a type.” Kup said, ex-venting shortly. “Lost one of my most promising recruits to him once upon a time. Can’t help feelin’ this is just Breakdown all over again.” 

“Knock Out and I already had that conversation. I’m not a replacement.” Wheeljack said, fingers gripping the table tightly. 

“How do you know you’re not brainwashed?” Springer snapped, pushing away from the table and getting to his feet. “Primus, Jackie! I can’t even wrap my processor around any possible reason to get yourself bonded to a Decepticon!” 

“He’s not a fraggin’ ‘Con anymore.” Wheeljack said, trying very hard to keep his temper in check. “Optimus Prime himself pardoned Knock Out and made him an Autobot.” 

“So you took that as your queue to start chasing his shiny red aft?!” Springer shouted. “You were a brainiac before you joined us, one would assume you’d have enough presence of mind to think about what you were doing before hooking up with a ‘Con!”

“Simmer down, kid. You’re givin’ me a processor ache.” Kup said, seizing Springer’s arm and trying to tug him down into his seat. “Yellin’ at Jackie’s not gonna change a thing.” 

“Yeah, but it’s making me feel a little better.” Springer said quietly, jerking his arm away from Kup. 

“I was as surprised as you are when it started.” Wheeljack said, leaning back in his chair. 

“Can’t say I’m surprised at all.” Kup said. “Disappointed maybe, but not surprised. Knock Out’s a slippery mech with a silver glossa.”

“He’s a monster, a butcher wearing a pretty chassis. Like a fraggin’ present that, when you open it, gives you a face full of disease.” Springer spat, slamming his fist into the table. “It’s bad enough that he’s here at all, we gotta find out that our Wheeljack’s swappin’ cables with him!” He leaned across the table towards Wheeljack, who met his angry stare without flinching. “He skins Autobots and cuts them up for spare parts. You sure you feel safe crawlin’ into his berth?”

“Well Springer, thanks for puttin’ that rumor to rest. You sure do blast off fast, don’t you?” Wheeljack growled. “Surprised you’re not already face down, rechargin’ on the table!” 

“Why you little-” Springer lunged at him, Kup getting to his feet with startling speed and calm and grabbing the larger mech’s arm. He twisted it, swept Springer’s foot out from under him and rode his frame to the floor as he toppled. “Frag it all, Kup! LEMME AT HIM!” 

“Gentlemech!! That is more than enough!” A voice bellowed from the door, Wheeljack and Springer going still at the sound while Kup just looked up with eyebrows raised in appreciation. Ultra Magnus was in fine form, EM field full of rage and mouth pulled into a tight line as he strode over to gaze down at the two Wreckers on the floor. “What exactly is the meaning of this?!”

“Just two kids takin’ care of business Wrecker style.” Kup explained, not releasing his grip on Springer. “Nothin’ to strip your gears over.” 

“I will say this once, and only once.” Ultra Magnus’ voice was soft, and Wheeljack couldn’t help feeling that it would make even the staunchest Autobot quake. “I will not, under ANY circumstance, tolerate anything on this base done ‘Wrecker style,’ is that clear?” 

“Understood, sir.” Wheeljack said immediately, Kup grunting in reluctant affirmation. 

“I will not have any of you acting like sparkless thugs! I will not have any of you coming to blows in order to settle disputes! I will not tolerate you shouting with your vulgar language!” It seemed impossible for Ultra Magnus to seem any taller than he already was, but as he shouted, he drew himself up to impressive height. “I want a full report of this altercation on my desk, signed in triplicate. Is that clear, soldiers?!”

“Is that how you’re still solvin’ all your problems, Magnus?” Kup asked, digging his knee into the small of Springer’s back and frowning up at the Commander. “You used to be a mech who didn’t mind gettin’ his hands dirty. You used to stand back and let the young hotheads have it out till they were done bein’ angry.” 

“A lot has changed since we served alongside one another in the war, Kup.” Ultra Magnus said, ex-venting shortly. “I learned the hard way that some battles are better fought without violence. Full report. On my desk. Signed in triplicate. Do I need to repeat myself again?”

“No, sir.” Kup looked down at Springer, jerking his arm and making the younger mech grunt in discomfort. “Well kid?”

“No sir.” Springer said, venom in his words. “You can expect your f-” His words became a yelp of pain as Kup pressed down on him. “You can expect your report by morning. Sir.” 

Ultra Magnus nodded down at them, then turned on Wheeljack, his field blazing full of fresh anger. “I thought I made it clear to you that you were to bring situations like this to my attention, soldier.” He said harshly, Wheeljack’s optics widening. 

“Sir, it wasn’t a ‘situation.’” He protested. “Not at first! I was trying to be upfront with them!” 

“You never were a very tactful mech.” Ultra Magnus said, and Wheeljack growled. “I have a feeling I know what this is about, and you should have brought me in to mediate.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you with anything that wasn’t official business, sir.” Wheeljack said, clenching his hands into fists. “I thought I could take care of this on my own, seeing as it’s MY business and technically no one elses.” 

“Be that as it may, I don’t have much patience or leniency for this sort of behavior.” Ultra Magnus was looming. Wheeljack refused to shrink beneath his gaze. “Maybe it would be best for you and your Conjux to go off world until things here calm down.”

“You’re kiddin’ me.” Wheeljack said, scowling. “You’re sendin’ me away?” 

“Come with me.” Ultra Magnus demanded, looking over at Kup. “And you two-”

“Report. Desk. Blah blah blah.” Kup waved his free hand dismissively. 

Ultra Magnus’ mouth turned down and he turned abruptly to leave. Wheeljack glanced at the others before following, muttering a curse under his breath. 

“I will forever rue the day Springer ever met Impactor. I warned Kup that mech was nothing but a bad influence, but he didn’t listen.” Ultra Magnus said in hushed tones as he strode up the hallway. “Now look at this mess I’m left with…” 

“What the frag happened to him after I left?” Wheeljack asked, receiving a sharp look from Ultra Magnus. “If you don’t mind me askin’ sir.” He amended, Ultra Magnus twitching a brow at him before looking away. 

“Springer watched as Impactor was torn apart in front of him by a Decepticon named Overlord. I’m sure you’ve heard of him before.” The Commander’s field tightened as he spoke. 

“I have.” Wheeljack felt a jolt of some cold emotion he couldn’t put a name to. Overlord was one of those Decepticons you prayed you’d never, ever cross. 

“Springer was injured himself, and I’m surprised he came away without more than crushed legs, a cracked spark casing and a gaping head wound. He’s made of tough stuff… not many mechs could boast surviving an attack by Overlord.” Ultra Magnus shook his head. “After Impactor’s death, Springer lost all sense and threw himself into seeking revenge. Kup could barely manage him, but that was better than the rest of us could do.”

“Damn this war to the Pit.” Wheeljack hissed. “So that’s why he’s bent on makin’ such a big deal about Knock Out?” 

“... perhaps.” Ultra Magnus said, ushering Wheeljack into his office. “Call Knock Out to join us please. I think it’s time the two of you had a bit of a vacation.” 

“A vacation? That’s not very Ultra Magnus like.” Wheeljack snickered. 

“I feel that a departure from the norm in this case may be necessary. Tempers are running high. I need time to get the Wreckers under control.” Ultra Magnus put a hand briefly to his optics. “And having Knock Out here is just going to make that harder.” 

“I’m not gonna say no to a vacation, Commander.” Wheeljack turned around, raising his hand to activate his private comm. :: Hey Hot Wheels. :: 

:: Hm. :: Knock Out replied after a pause. :: And what is it you’ve done this time? ::

:: The frag’s that supposed to mean? :: Wheeljack frowned. 

:: You’re doing that sweet talking thing. ::

:: Could be I’m legitimately in a good mood. How would you feel about takin’ a vacation? :: Wheeljack glanced over at Ultra Magnus, who had taken the private conversation as an opportunity to catch up on paperwork. :: Mags wants us to go off world together for a bit. Things are sort of a mess here and he thinks we could use a break. ::

:: Meaning he wants us out of his way so we don’t make things worse? :: Knock Out said wryly. 

:: Could be that’s the case. Could be he sees a need and is fillin’ it. :: Wheeljack rolled his optics. :: C’mon. Let’s take him up on this. Get away for a bit. Go to Earth maybe? :: 

:: Not my first choice, but at the very least it will give me a chance to stock up on some beauty supplies. :: Knock Out mused. :: When do we leave? ::

:: Come to Magnus’ office. He’ll debrief us, I’m sure. :: Wheeljack found himself grinning, the fondness he felt through their bond making his frame warm. 

:: Very well then. On my way. :: Knock Out closed the frequency and Wheeljack turned back around to face Ultra Magnus. 

“He’s comin’, sir.” Wheeljack said, Ultra Magnus nodding and gesturing for him to take a seat while they waited. 

Knock Out smelled like fresh solvent when he came in, and he carried an easy-going air about him. He smiled brilliantly at Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack, then seated himself in the only other empty chair in the room. “Hello and good evening Commander. My Conjux informs me that I need to be briefed on something?” 

“That is correct.” Ultra Magnus set the data pad he held down and looked at them. “I just finished clearing both your schedules for a week. You’re permitted to leave the planet for a destination of your choosing, but you must return at the end of your allotted time off to return to your duties or else face appropriate repercussions.” 

“Yessir.” Wheeljack said, Knock Out letting out a rather eager “Of course, Commander.” 

“That being said… please try to stay out of trouble, both of you. And if you find any other refugees, please send them home.” Ultra Magnus’ hard expression softened ever so slightly. “Where is it you’ll be going?” 

“We were thinkin’ of just going to Earth.” Wheeljack said, glancing at Knock Out. “We could give Ratchet a hard time for you.” 

Ultra Magnus frowned and made a small, displeased noise. “You shouldn’t bother him if he’s on duty.” He said. 

“He’s always on duty. Maybe it’s him who should be put on vacation.” Knock Out observed with a chuckle, and Ultra Magnus just gave a slight jerk of his head in agreement. 

“One week.” The Commander straightened. “Make sure First Aid is prepared to cover for you while you’re gone, Knock Out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize I'm probably taking liberties with a LOT of people's characters, but I'm attempting to come up with in-story explanations as to why they may be behaving out of character. IF ANYONE IS HORRIBLY OOC, PLEASE DO NOT HESITATE TO CORRECT AND/OR EDUCATE ME! 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I came back! Here's a brief sexy interlude before we get back to the action.

They didn’t go to stay at the old Autobot base. There were other places, other warehouses, that had been modified to accommodate returning refugees who wished to stay on Earth instead of on Cybertron, and Knock Out insisted they take the one outfitted with a proper oil bath. 

It wasn’t fancy, but it was private and it was the first time Wheeljack and Knock Out had been alone since they had gone on patrol together. 

Knock Out wasted no time in filling the oil bath and getting it heated, while Wheeljack focused on removing all of the things he had placed in various subspace compartments that he felt shouldn’t be submerged in hot oil. 

“This is already far more blissful than I could have hoped for. “ Knock Out sighed, testing the oil with one hand and smiling cheerfully. “Strange that Magnus would usher us off like that. He must have had to fill out a lot of paperwork and shift around a lot of schedules to make this work.” 

“I’m not gonna bother worrying about the particulars of his discomfort.” Wheeljack turned, fiddling with something around his wrist. “How is it?”

“Coming along nicely.” Knock Out stood, moving to Wheeljack and embracing him. “You’re going to join me, correct?” 

“Now why would I decline an offer like that?” Wheeljack said, tilting his helm to the side. “Pass up an opportunity to be close to my Conjux? Very close?” He scoffed. “I don’t think so, Red.” 

“Why don’t we get started, then? Give the oil a helping hand in getting hot?” Knock Out leaned into Wheeljack, his engine letting out a purr. 

“Yeah, I like that idea a lot.” Wheeljack grinned at him, as lopsided and roguish as usual. He lifted Knock Out from his feet, the medic squawking and attempting to hang onto the Wrecker so he wouldn’t fall. Wheeljack lowered them both into the oil bath, Knock Out giving him one of those burning, hard to read looks that made his cooling fans turn on. “Y’know, you gotta be careful with that look of yours.” Wheeljack said as he settled against the wall of the bath. “That’s what got us into this mess.”

“If you’re referring to me giving you this look in the med-bay before you muttered, and I quote, ‘Oh just frag me already,’ that was hardly the start of all this.” Knock Out said, expression still blazing. 

“Not lookin’ for a hard, fast frag today.” Wheeljack was still grinning. “Lemme pamper you a bit. When’s the last time someone untangled your wires?” 

“I can’t recall, which is a good answer, I’d say.” Knock Out leaned in to steal a kiss, then slid away from his Conjux to stand on his own two feet. 

“Sit across from me and let me work some magic of my own.” Wheeljack said, Knock Out raising a brow at him. “I made something you might like.” 

“You made something?” Knock Out let out a soft laugh, settling down on the bench across from Wheeljack. “I thought you were a Wrecker now, not an engineer?” 

“It’s not somethin’ you just stop bein’, Knock Out. Besides… we hardly get any time together anymore and I needed some way to ease the tension of long nights spent with a head full of thoughts of you.” Wheeljack said, a very sincere expression on his face. 

“Uugh.” Knock Out groaned, one of his legs kicking out in Wheeljack’s direction, only to be caught in deft hands. “You are the worst.” 

“I try my very hardest.” Wheeljack grinned, amusement and affection flicking through his field. He smoothed his hands over Knock Out’s leg. “Flare your plating and let me work.” 

Knock Out did as instructed, and Wheeljack’s fingers began smoothing kinks in his cabling, working tangles loose. A slight current moved over his protoform every time the Wrecker’s fingers brushed against it, Knock Out’s engine growling as he sank back against the wall of the bath. 

Wheeljack’s grin had faded into a gentle smile that didn’t disappear as the Wrecker worked. When he was done with the wiring of Knock Out’s calf, Wheeljack dug his fingers into the Aston Martin’s protoform and applied a firm, gently charged massage that sent shivers up his back strut. 

“Oof, let’s not wait so long to do this again.” Knock Out said, optics dim and mouth turned up slightly. “It is indeed very magical.” 

Wheeljack responded by lowering the leg he held and lifting the other one to continue. He was halfway done when he saw charge crackling between Knock Out’s plates, looking up to meet his Conjux’ optics. 

“I want to tell you to hurry so you can deal with this charge you’ve given me, but I don’t want you to hurry at all.” Knock Out said breathlessly, the blazing look back on his face. 

Wheeljack tilted his head to the side and dug his fingers into his lover’s protoform, scraping lightly along it. Current danced over the limb he held and Knock Out braced himself against the opposite wall. 

Wheeljack knew, from their bond, from their merge, that Knock Out didn’t like intense and overwhelming pleasure inflicted upon him the way he inflicted it upon others. He preferred something much slower and more sensual. He wanted to be worshipped, he wanted his partner’s entire attention. Most of their encounters had consisted of Wheeljack asking Knock Out to pin him down and have his way… All of this now was his way of giving back to his Conjux Endura. So he pinned Knock Out’s leg to his side and slid his hand up to the medic’s thigh. Pressing his palm flat against the chrome plating, digging his thumb in with insistent pressure, Wheeljack raised the current a touch. 

“H-haa!” Knock Out arched, optics flickering offline. “I reeeally didn’t know y-you had this in you!” 

Wheeljack slid his hand along Knock Out’s thigh, all the way up to where it joined his torso, fingers brushing against the closed panel of the array between his legs. The leg he wasn’t holding jerked up to wrap around his hips, and Wheeljack moved closer. He stroked current across the closed panel, Knock Out making a frantic noise and folding it back. Wheeljack cupped his hand between his partner’s legs, the full contact of that current against his ports making Knock Out cry out. 

Claws dug into Wheeljack’s shoulders, and Knock Out stared at him demandingly with half closed, too bright optics. Wheeljack leaned into him, cooling fans roaring, and spoke against his audial. 

“You drive me absolutely mad. You make me want to crawl out of my plating.” He said, Knock Out grinding his hips forward and causing him to firm his grip. “Just bein’ around you, rememberin’ everything you’ve done to me… Frag, Knock Out, I had to make this thing. I had to use it to touch myself.” 

“I… I-I’m s-so happy to h-have… such a profound effect on y-you.” Knock Out panted, squirming. 

“And it happens a lot.” Wheeljack admitted, rubbing his thumb directly against one of Knock Out’s ports. “Sometimes more than once a night. Layin’ on our berth, knowin’ you’re workin’ late and I won’t see you.” 

Knock Out groaned, his claws dragging over Wheeljack’s shoulders and digging into the hinges of the Wrecker’s door wings. He made a sound of regret when Wheeljack’s hand left his array, but when it worked under his chest plating, he arched and weakly cried the Wrecker’s name. 

“And it works. For awhile.” Wheeljack said, smiling against Knock Out’s throat. “But it’s no true substitute to being with you. No replacement for the prettiest mech I ever had the pleasure of fraggin’.” 

Abruptly, Knock Out’s chest plates parted. “Please.” He said desperately, Wheeljack leaning in to kiss him shortly and reaching a hand in to stroke along his spark frame. “A-aaah!! Wheeljack!” 

“What’s your hurry, prettybot?” Wheeljack said, his free arm wrapping around Knock Out’s waist. 

“R-rude!” Knock Out beat one fist against Wheeljack’s chest. “You are making me b-beg and that is so, v-very rude!” 

Wheeljack threw his head back and laughed, then he bared his own spark and pulled his hand from Knock Out’s chest. “I love you, Knock Out.” He said with another soft laugh, moving forward to press their sparks together. 

“Oh Primus, yes!” Knock Out cried, grinding his spark against Wheeljack’s and arching into a much needed, much deserved overload. His V12 engine was thunderous, his field erupted around them both, full of love, frustration and insurmountable lust. Wheeljack gazed at him affectionately, and just as he felt his partner’s charge begin to level out, he reached between them and applied fresh current to Knock Out’s array. 

Surprise flickered across their bond, then Knock Out let out a shriek and bucked against him as he was pushed straight back into overload. Wheeljack felt the medic’s wicked claws bite into his plating, wincing at the sting, then he was being dragged into the white hot wave and the pain no longer mattered. 

Fields meshing together, the two mechs savored their shared overload. Wheeljack pushed all of his appreciation and pleasure through their bond, Knock Out responded with frantic endearments muttered against the Wrecker’s parted chest plates. It was Knock Out who removed Wheeljack’s hand from his array, trembling and weak. 

“If you keep that there, we’re going to be at it all night.” He said, Wheeljack letting out a drunken giggle. 

“S’that such a bad thing?” Wheeljack said, Knock Out grumbling at him. “Did I wear you out?” 

“I now understand the human concept of ‘pelvic sorcery.’” Knock Out was attempting to push away from him, though not very adamantly. “And leg rubs always make me sleepy.” 

“I’ll make a note of that for the future.” Wheeljack smiled, nuzzling his face into Knock Out’s neck. He fumbled with the device around his wrist, removing it and setting it on the floor next to the bath. 

“You need medical attention.” Knock Out said tiredly, looking at his own claws. He slid his chest plates closed and untangled his legs from around the Wrecker’s waist. “I don’t often get so overcome that I injure my partner… I would congratulate you, but I’m not exactly happy that I’ve harmed you.” 

“I’ve had worse.” Wheeljack said, stretching and closing his own chest plates. “But I wouldn’t mind you takin’ a look at those scratches. Might get a little tender if left unchecked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got any questions? Feel free to ask me anything!
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr!
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/drazyrohk
> 
> I post mostly food, cats, food, nature, food, fandom stuff, food, Transformers and food.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are terribly embarrassing and Miko asks a lot of questions...

Finding out one’s long dead friend wasn’t as dead as they thought was always a striking surprise. When Perceptor had come through the Space Bridge almost a week ago, Ratchet had been absolutely elated to see him. They had worked together a very, very long time ago, and Ratchet had mourned when he was given news of Perceptor’s death at the hands of the Decepticons. 

Perceptor had seemed rather subdued at first, but he didn’t dwell on whatever was bothering. Instead, the two of them fell into an easy routine and Ratchet found his list of ‘To Do’s’ dwindling far more rapidly than when he had been working alone. 

“I wanted to see what hold this place had over you.” Perceptor admitted in his quiet, lilting voice. “It’s a beautiful place, though I have yet to meet the natives.” 

“Give it some time, you will.” Ratchet said with a chuckle. “We have a few friends who come to visit us here. They’re very small, but getting bigger all the time. I will happily introduce you to them when they’re around. I think you and Raf may get along very well indeed, Perceptor.”

Getting some real work done for once was practically a dream come true. Ratchet should have known it wouldn’t last. 

For days, he and Perceptor had been working with the Space Bridge, trying to fine tune it. They had been having in depth, intellectual conversations. Catching up after many long, long years without having seen one another. 

The sound of two powerful engines outside made Ratchet pause and made Perceptor straighten with a frown. 

“Oh no.” Ratchet muttered when he realized what that probably meant. He had heard a rumor that a certain couple had been given leave here on Earth, but seeing as they hadn’t contacted him, Ratchet felt confident that they would leave him alone. 

There were too many complicated things going on with that whole arrangement. He didn’t want anything to do with it. 

“Hey Doc, you here?” A gruff voice called out, Perceptor going absolutely rigid before turning to hurriedly return to his work. 

“Yes, I’m here.” Ratchet said in response, rolling his optics. “Hello Wheeljack. Hello Knock Out. What is it you two want?” 

“We came to say hello!” Knock Out said cheerfully, offering Ratchet a smile and a wave. “So this was your base of operations, hm? I’m astonished you accomplished so much with so little… Ratchet, your engineering skills are of a genius caliber.” 

Knock Out stopped short upon seeing Perceptor, glancing briefly at Wheeljack when the mech did the same. For a moment, Wheeljack’s mouth twisted, then he ex-vented and smoothed his features. 

“Just gonna give KO the ten credit tour, if that’s alright?” Wheeljack said, Ratchet waving a hand dismissively. “How’s it goin’, Perceptor?” 

“Well enough.” Was Perceptor’s tight reply, and Ratchet moved to the other mech’s side. 

“I have a lot of inventory to take. Would you mind giving me a hand with that?” Ratchet asked, Perceptor giving him a brief look of thanks before nodding. “We’ll be in the back. PLEASE, don’t break anything.”

“We won’t even touch anythin’.” Wheeljack said with a frown. “C’mon. I’ll show you where I was crashin’.” 

“Do you trust them to be in your lab alone?” Perceptor asked as he and Ratchet moved to the stockroom. 

“Not exactly, but I trust Wheeljack to keep Knock Out in line.” Ratchet ex-vented. “He might be reckless, but he won’t allow Knock Out to damage or compromise anything in there. Would you mind telling me why you’re so upset?”

Perceptor looked at him in surprise, then looked away and clenched his hands into fists. “I thought you knew. I thought all of the Autobots would know by now, considering how swiftly gossip travels.” He said bitterly. “I shouldn’t have assumed. Ah… Wheeljack and I were once lovers. We didn’t exactly get closure considering he thought I was killed and I assumed he left me for dead.” 

Ratchet grimaced. Well, that certainly explained the hostility.

 

Miko rolled her eyes in a dramatic manner as she waved over her shoulder at her host parents and pulled her Space Bridge remote out of her purse. She had been having lunch with her ‘folks’ while visiting Jasper, but there were other people she was more eager to see in this neck of the woods. 

Moving out of sight of the road, Miko waited until her host parents were gone then activated her remote. A smaller version of the green Space Bridge portal bloomed before her and she trotted through with a grin on her face. 

Rumor was, her second favorite Wrecker was visiting Earth. She planning to demand Ratchet contact him so she could spend some much needed Wrecker time with Wheeljack! She hadn’t seen him in years and she wanted to hear about all the adventures he’d been having since they last spoke. 

The base was surprisingly quiet when she came in, Miko glancing around before cupping her hands around her mouth. “Ratchet! Hey Ratchet? You here?” 

There was the sound of a muffled curse from the med bay and Miko grinned. Hurrying towards it, she pulled out her cell phone with the intention of taking a picture of the grumpy mech when she spotted him. He hated having his picture taken and Miko had made a habit of changing her phone’s background to a different one every time she came to visit. 

“Smile for the camera, doc!” Miko chirped as she leapt into the med bay with her camera poised. 

She froze, eyes widening. Her heart began pounding and she was dizzy with panic as she looked up and into a familiar pair of red optics. 

“I want to say, this isn’t what it looks like.” Knock Out purred, giving her a sheepish grin. “But that would be lying.”

Electricity crackled between his claws. On the med berth was Wheeljack, his hands cuffed together and his optics dim. Miko couldn’t believe it! How did Knock Out get in here?! How did he get Wheeljack in here?! WHY WAS HE TORTURING WHEELJACK?!

Miko took a slow step backwards, lowering her phone. “What are you doing here?” She asked furiously. “And what do you think you are doing to him, Decepticreep?!” 

“How rude.” Knock Out said with a frown, putting his hands on his hips. “You’re obviously misjudging this situation. Come here, squishy.” 

“Stay back, you piece of slag!” Miko snarled, dropping her phone on the ground. Right now, she would give anything for the Apex Armor… If Knock Out had hurt Wheeljack, or anyone else, she was going to pound him into scrap.

As Knock Out took a step towards her, Miko bolted. She went immediately for a switch on the wall, one that she and Jack and Raf had all helped Ratchet design and install. 

Humans didn’t stand a chance against Cybertronians, not when they were so hilariously small and weak. In case of Decepticon invasion (because as Ratchet pointed out, the war was over but that didn’t mean the bad guys were gone,) all they had to do was pull the switch and the enemy invaders would be rendered neutral. 

“Miko?” Wheeljack said weakly, his voice full of static. “Miko! No! Wait!”

“Don’t worry Jackie, I’ll save you!” Miko said.

Knock Out almost made it to her before she grabbed the switch in both hands and yanked it down. 

There was a building pressure, a sharp noise just at the edge of her hearing, then Miko ducked and covered her ears as the electronics in the room began sparking and powering down. Knock Out’s optics widened, then he jerked forward and they went black. The towering Decepticon dropped to the ground with a thundering crash, Miko immediately standing and rushing to the med berth. Scaling it with ease, she struggled to get the now deactivated cuffs off of Wheeljack’s hands. 

They were heavy, but not unmanageable. Shoving them onto the floor, she leapt back down and dragged them to Knock Out. Pushing his wrists close together, Miko fought to get the cuffs around them. She slammed the cuffs closed, watching them flicker to life and grinning. 

“You just got owned, Doc Knock. And I didn’t even need the armor to beat you!” She said, giving his arm a kick before running out of the room to find Ratchet. 

It wasn’t difficult to track the medic down, seeing as there weren’t very many rooms in the base to check. 

Her bad day got worse when she saw Ratchet laying on the floor of the stockroom next to another mech she didn’t recognize. Miko gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth when she saw the spreading pool of Energon beneath the two mechs. 

“No no no…” Miko ran towards the two mechs, careful not to step in the Energon. She climbed up onto Ratchet’s leg, carefully making her way across his frame to his head. Luckily for her, he had fallen on his face so she could get to the circuits she needed to wake him up. “C’mon, please don’t be dead. Please Ratchet, Jackie needs you…” 

She burned her fingers the first time she tried to reactivate the doctor. Cursing and sticking her fingers in her mouth, Miko tried again, making sure she got a good grip on Ratchet’s frame as she felt him begin twitching. “Ratchet! Ratchet, are you okay? Did he hurt you?” 

“Whassat?” Ratchet said, words slurred. His optics blinked sluggishly and he looked around. “What in the name of Primus? Miko? MIKO!” He stopped moving, not wanting to jar her loose. “What happened?! Why did you activate the defenses?!” 

“We’ve been invaded, Ratchet! Are you alright? There’s Energon everywhere!” Miko pushed the panel she had opened on the back of his helm closed, giving him a reassuring pat. 

“I’m fine… just have a helmache from the blast.” Ratchet shifted slightly. “Could you get down? I’m going to stand up and help Perceptor.” 

“What about all the Energon?” Miko asked as she hopped off of him and moved a safe distance away. “Looks like a blood bath in here, doc.” 

“We were doing inventory. I was carrying one of the bigger cubes.” Ratchet groaned as he got to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck and stretching. “What do you mean, we’ve been invaded, Miko?”

“Knock Out’s in the med bay, but don’t worry! I cuffed him once he was out.” Miko growled. “He was torturing Wheeljack! I woke you first cause I wasn’t sure if it was safe to wake Jackie up. He might be hurt.” 

Ratchet stopped, looking down at her with optics wide and full of horror. She understood exactly how he felt… After the war ended, she had hoped all of this nasty business could be put behind them. 

“You cuffed him?” Ratchet asked, Miko nodding enthusiastically. 

“Yep! It was tough, but I got it done.” She said with a grin. “We gonna throw him in the brig? Call up Ultra Magnus? Have a big trial?!” She balled up her fists and mimed punching. “EXECUTE HIM?!”

“No!” Ratchet waved his hands and shook his head. “Miko, calm down. There’s something I need to explain to you.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and then leaned down to wake up Perceptor. “I can’t believe no one told you… I can’t believe I didn’t either.” He said, looking at his human companion. 

“Tell me what?” Miko asked, frowning. 

Perceptor sat up suddenly, his hands groping at his back for something and his optics cold and hard. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, then Ratchet put his hands on Perceptor’s shoulders. 

“Calm down. It’s alright, we’re not under attack.” He said, Perceptor focusing on him for a moment before scowling and looking at the floor. 

“Knock Out?” He said, Ratchet shaking his head. He looked past the medic at Miko, optics widening almost comically. “Is that…”

“This is Miko Nakadai, one of the natives of this planet and a good friend of mine.” Ratchet said, gesturing to the girl. “She activated the base’s defenses. We had them installed so our human friends had a way of defending themselves should the Decepticons return.” 

“Which they did.” Miko stated, planting her hands on her hips. “So, you’re Perceptor? Can I call you Percy? What’s up with that thing on your shoulder?”

“Oh my goodness gracious me.” Perceptor chirped, getting onto his hands and knees and crawling over to Miko. “You’re so very small! And fleshy!” He reached out an Energon soaked finger and Miko sprang away from him. “Oh my, I’m sorry. I should have asked first.” Perceptor blinked at the Energon, seeming to register he was covered with it at last. “Ah, we must have fallen onto the cube you were holding when we went offline.” 

“It’ll be fine. Just don’t get any on her, it’s poisonous to humans.” Ratchet said. “Listen Miko, Knock Out isn’t a Decepticon anymore.”

“What?!” Miko cried, looking up at Ratchet in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?!”

“Optimus Prime pardoned him after he helped save Cybertron. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you... “ Ratchet looked away from her, feeling more than a little ashamed. This whole mess could have been avoided…

“Um, EXCUSE ME?!” Miko growled. “Did Optimus Prime take CRAZY PILLS?! Did he forget what Knock Out did to me? To us?!” 

“I’m sure he didn’t.” Ratchet’s voice had a pained edge to it. Talking about Optimus was extremely difficult, and he figured it always would be. 

“Knock Out kidnapped me! He kidnapped June and Agent Fowler!” Miko shouted. “He beat up Bulkhead and even Optimus himself! And Optimus Prime just PARDONED him for that?!” 

“Yes! He did!” Ratchet snapped. “I know, I thought it was crazy too! I don’t trust him because of everything he did and because of everything I’m sure he’s going to do in the future too!” He took a breath and tried to calm himself, optics squeezing shut. “But the fact remains that Optimus DID pardon him and that he IS on our team now. He wasn’t torturing Wheeljack.” 

“Torturing?” Perceptor looked up at Ratchet with wide optics. “Why would she think-”

“He had Wheeljack strapped to the med berth! He was zapping him! That sure sounds like torture to me!” Miko protested. 

Perceptor looked up at Ratchet in horror, shock and disgust. Ratchet gave him a rather exasperated look in return, putting his hand over his face. 

“Miko… Knock Out is Wheeljack’s Conjux Endura.” He said slowly, looking down at her. She stared back at him blankly and he rolled his optics. “His significant other. They’re married.”

Miko’s mouth dropped open and she stared at Ratchet accusingly. He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and Miko slowly took in a breath. 

“WHAT THE FRAG DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE MARRIED?!” She bellowed, Perceptor blinking down at her in alarm. 

“For something so small, you are incredibly loud.” He remarked, but Miko wasn’t paying attention to him. 

“RATCHET!” Miko screeched. “Wheeljack would NEVER marry a ‘Con! He wouldn’t! What do you mean they’re-” She stopped short, horrified realization crossing her face. “Oh my GOD, they were doing it weren’t they?! In the MED BAY?! They were having sex in the med bay?!” Looking up at Ratchet with a twisted expression on her face, she continued. “That’s how you guys do it?! You zap each other?!” 

“Not always no!” Ratchet spluttered. He didn’t feel at all comfortable having this conversation.

She made a disgusted noise, shaking herself and doing a mortified dance on the spot. “And I walked in on them!”

“I’m just as horrified as you are.” Ratchet said dryly, face palming again. 

“It doesn’t seem entirely out of character for Wheeljack to do something like that.” Perceptor said, getting to his feet. He moved nervously around Miko, not wanting to step on her. “But really… we were right down the hall. Anyone could have walked in on them.” He made a curious noise and looked down at Miko, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Ratchet stopped him. 

“Hyep ep ep, now is NOT the time to ask about human procreation, Perceptor!” He said, Perceptor’s shoulders slumping. 

“Auuuuuugggggghhhh!!” Miko cried, driving the heels of her palms into her eyes. “I need brain bleach!” 

“We had best go and wake them up.” Ratchet said. “If you want to stay here and clean this up instead, I won’t blame you.” 

“No no. I think it might do my spark well to see Wheeljack squirm a little. While I understand now that he didn’t abandon me, I can’t help feeling a little humiliation on his part might help mend things.” Perceptor said cooly, Miko still making disgusted little noises and spinning on the spot. 

“I gotta call Jack. I can’t wait to see his face when he hears this.” Miko ran out of the room and Ratchet hurried to follow her, Perceptor tagging along behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another interlude while the creativity is still with me.

Wheeljack ached, his entirety ached. He had never ached quite like this before, not even that time he and Bulkhead got Star Sabered on an experimental high grade he made while already drunk on regular high grade. 

“You gotta be fraggin’ with me.” Wheeljack said weakly, trying to raise his hand to his face. “What happened?” 

“Sorry buddy.” A small voice said from the vicinity of his chest. “I thought you were bein’ attacked, so I hit the Big Red Button.” 

Right. Miko. “Hey Wrecker.” Wheeljack said with a smile, trying to focus on the human girl. “Jeez, what’d you do to your hair?” 

“Like it?” Miko smirked, running her fingers through her much shorter, half blue hair. 

“It’s very Miko.” Wheeljack chuckled, slowly sitting up. She hopped down as he moved, looking a little bit conflicted and maybe a touch guilty. “What’s going on?”

“We installed defences for the humans to use in case of Decepticon attack.” Ratchet said as he entered the room. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I got run over. By a Predacon.” Wheeljack muttered, shaking his head. “Where’s KO?” 

“Yuck. Nicknames? Really?” Miko said, curling her nose. “By the way, while you might have thought the whole ‘hospital sex’ thing was kinky, it’s totally cliche.”

“Ahem.” Ratchet said quietly, giving Miko a scolding look that she ignored.

“I’ll keep that in mind?” Wheeljack frowned. “But that doesn’t answer my question.” 

“He’s in our only recovery room, still unconscious. I wanted to have a chance to explain things to Miko before waking him up.” Ratchet said, mouth pulled into a tight line. Behind him, Perceptor was not quite lurking. “It seems no one told her about Knock Out’s involvement in saving Cybertron, nor Optimus’ decision to pardon him.” 

“Oh frag.” Wheeljack grimaced, looking at Miko. He met her stern stare, took in her folded arms and her Epic Pouting Maneuver and grimaced harder. “Uuugh, I’m sorry, okay? I haven’t been back since we first left.” 

“And that’s ANOTHER thing.” Miko said, holding up a finger menacingly. 

“Look, it was on Optimus. He said we all acted like Primes, and that included Knock Out cause he was there at the time. We all sort of took that to heart.” Wheeljack said in protest. 

“Optimus Prime didn’t tell you not to visit me. And Optimus Prime sure as hell didn’t tell you to marry a ‘Con!” Miko shouted, Ratchet clearing his throat loudly. 

“Language, young lady.” He said, Miko rolling her eyes.

“Miko, I know it seems sorta…” Wheeljack couldn’t figure out the words and so fell silent, averting his optics so he didn’t have to look at the betrayal on his friend’s face. “I know you probably don’t like it much, but I love him. I do. It sorta just… happened.” 

“Dude.” Miko said, voice shrill. “He KIDNAPPED me! Used me as bait to help his creepy friends!” 

“I know.” Wheeljack hadn’t forgotten about that. 

“When I told him to get fragged, I TOTALLY didn’t mean by you.” She continued, Wheeljack looking at her in surprise and shame. “ESPECIALLY not somewhere I could see you! Seriously!” 

“Miko!” Ratchet growled in protest. 

“Stuff it, Ratch, you’re not my mother.” Miko folded her arms again, absolutely livid. “Besides, I’m not a little girl anymore! I can swear all I want!” She opened her mouth to prove it, a hand suddenly clapping over it from behind her as Jack Darby appeared as if from nowhere.

“Seriously, you’re just provoking her now.” Jack said, giving Ratchet a pained look. “Hey Wheeljack, good to see you.” 

“You too.” Wheeljack muttered, taking in the human and noting how incredibly tall he had gotten since they last saw one another. “How have you both been doing?” 

“Pretty good,” Jack said, just as Miko growled “Terrible!”

“I said I was sorry, Miko.” Wheeljack said, Perceptor letting out a strangely choked noise that drew the gaze of everyone else in the room. “What’s so funny?” 

Fingers pressed to his mouth in an almost prim manner, Perceptor looked at Wheeljack with wide optics. “They are so tiny, and yet you seem so cowed. These are truly extraordinary creatures to have such an effect on you, Wheeljack.” He said, voice thick with amusement. 

“You’ll eventually learn that it doesn’t matter how big you are, everyone is cowed in Miko’s presence.” Jack said with a laugh. “I can’t say I completely blame her for being so upset, though. Knock Out also kidnapped my mother once upon a time. Locked her in his trunk. Hunted her like an animal.” 

Perceptor looked at Wheeljack, who looked back self consciously. “Look,” Wheeljack said, getting up. He wobbled for a moment, then steadied himself. “I’m bonded to the bastard, I KNOW what he’s done. Everything. Every bit of it. It wasn’t just a fraggin’ act of opportunity when he ended up joinin’ us!”

“So, being concerned about Starscream betraying and potentially killing him didn’t factor into his decision?” Ratchet asked, Wheeljack glaring at him. 

“Or how about these Terrocons I heard about? They didn’t have anything to do with his switching sides?” Miko said, Wheeljack’s door wings drooping.

“Yes, he was scared. He was looking for protection, but Prime was the first damn person who ever expressed true pride in him. That’s not something you just ignore.” Wheeljack said, looking down at the floor. “Knock Out doesn’t want to let Optimus down. He’s not going to just turn his back on us now that he’s one of us.” 

“But what about everything else?” Miko asked in desperation. “Are you gonna just forgive him for all of that?” 

“And not just the kidnappings.” Perceptor said, folding his arms. “I’ve heard stories, Wheeljack. I know why Knock Out’s referred to as a butcher.” 

“Like you’ve never done worse?” Wheeljack growled, balling his hands into fists. “You want me to send you a list of every ‘Con I’ve ever killed? Want me to detail the ways I’ve killed them?! We were at war, Perceptor!”

“Autobots do NOT torture their prisoners of war, Wheeljack!” Ratchet said, putting a hand on Perceptor’s chest and pushing him back a step. “What you did and what Knock Out has done are completely different!” 

“If you knew about half the slag Impactor had us get up to when Kup and Magnus weren’t around, you’d understand we’re really not that much different at all.” Wheeljack snarled, shoving past the other two mechs and heading towards the recovery room. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t do that stuff for fun, did you?!” Miko shouted after him, Jack trying to stop her but falling short. She scaled down from her perch and ran off after the Wrecker, Perceptor and Ratchet exchanging pained glances. “Jackie, wait!”

 

The first thing he saw when he brought his optics online was Wheeljack. A very pissed off, pained looking Wheeljack. Knock Out blinked a few times, then made to sit up, his bonded helping him. 

“Okay, what happened this time?” He said, trying to put a hand to his helm. His wrists were cuffed together with the set of magnetic handcuffs he’d been using on Wheeljack earlier. “Did I get shot again?” 

“No.” Wheeljack grunted, glancing over when a small figure hurried into the room. “No one told Miko you were with us now.” 

“That explains a few things.” Knock Out said, looking down at the human. “I think I might remember you. Wasn’t your hair pink?” 

In response, the human folded her arms across her chest and glared up at him, silent and apparently furious. Knock Out’s optics scanned the room for any sign of the Apex Armor, which he knew this particular human had a penchant for using to great effect. She had apparently taken him down without it, which made him even more wary.

“Look, if you two are having a fight, I don’t want to be in the middle of it.” Knock Out said, putting his hand on his hip.

“We’re fighting about you, duh.” The human said, sneering at him. “I thought you were torturing him, but as it turns out, you were just getting your freak on and that might be even worse.” 

“Oh come now, don’t be like that. Consider it an educational experience.” Knock Out grinned at her and Wheeljack closed his optics briefly with a long suffering groan. 

Voices came up the hall towards them, Knock Out recognizing Perceptor’s but not the other. 

“-ought to be referring to you as ‘Agent’ then?” Perceptor said, speaking to a second human that he was carrying in his hands. 

“Hm, not quite yet. I’m doing well with all the qualifying courses, but Agent Fowler says it’ll be a couple years before I can officially be employed.” The human said, casting a calculating look at Knock Out. 

He looked quite a bit different, but Knock Out was fairly sure this was Arcee’s former partner. 

“I remember you now.” Knock Out said with a smile. “You’re Jack, yes? How’s your mother? Did she and Agent Fowler end up getting married?”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just goes to show, you get what you give...

They got the call from Ultra Magnus that afternoon. It seemed fortuitous that they were still at the old base with Ratchet and Perceptor since the events that occurred were better described by sane voices. 

The humans were still there too. Miko and Knock Out had talked at length in a quiet corner, trying to smooth things over. She remained bitter and angry, especially since Knock Out’s attempt at being polite and friendly had gone over very poorly, but in the end she sighed and simply said “Shikata ga nai.” 

Knock Out’s translator took a couple minutes to figure out an appropriate meaning for the words, eventually setting on something along the lines of ‘it’s in the past’ and ‘nothing can be done.’

“But if you do anything like that ever again, Doc Knock? I’m gonna bust your ass.” Miko continued, and he believed her. The recordings of Starscream getting his frame tossed about like a rag doll by the tiny creature while wearing the Apex Armor had made the rounds of the Nemesis. There was little wonder that Wheeljack considered the girl the best Wrecker he had ever met.

Ultra Magnus arrived exactly when he said he would, but he didn’t come alone. Knock Out wasn’t particularly surprised to see Springer on Ultra Magnus’ left, but he hadn’t been expecting Bumblebee to be there as well. 

Bumblebee looked guilty. Worried. Springer looked far too pleased with himself. Ultra Magnus was wearing a grim expression and his field was filled with disappointment. 

“I didn’t think our week was up yet.” Wheeljack said, frowning. “Somethin’ the matter, Commander?”

“Yes.” Ultra Magnus said, looking down at the humans. “Ratchet, could you please escort our human friends from the room? They don’t need to be here for this.” 

“Whoa!” Jack exclaimed, stepping forward. “Excuse me?”

“Hey! We’re part of Team Prime, too!” Miko said firmly. 

“Be that as it may, this is not any business you need to be involved in.” Ultra Magnus sounded stern, and Ratchet glanced at the humans before stepping forward. 

“Let them stay.” Bumblebee said before Ratchet could intervene. “It’s something they deserve to know. We can’t keep things from them.” 

Ultra Magnus glanced at Bumblebee, the disappointment in his field only growing. “Very well then.” He said softly, turning back to the group of mechs before him. “Knock Out, I’m sorry to inform you that I am placing you under arrest.” 

“What?!” Ratchet burst out, outrage washing over him. 

“What the frag for?!” Wheeljack demanded, Ultra Magnus drawing himself up a little taller. “He hasn’t-”

“You are hereby charged with crimes against humanity and will be placed in custody until you can be tried and sentenced.” Ultra Magnus said loudly, silencing all the shouting. Springer was smiling in a nasty manner, armor fluffed in an obvious display of aggression. 

Knock Out felt his spark hammering in his chest, and he had to clench his fists to keep his claws from clattering against one another. “Is this about the kidnapping?” He said, Ultra Magnus lifting his chin and ex-venting before answering. 

“This is about Silas.” The words made a flash of rage, regret and disbelief move through Knock Out, Wheeljack turning to look at him with wide optics. “I would appreciate it if you came with me without putting up a fight.” 

A calm mask fell over Knock Out’s features and he gave a single nod of his head. Springer stepped forward but Bumblebee beat him to it, moving to close a set of stasis cuffs over Knock Out’s wrists. 

“What about Silas?” Jack asked quietly. 

“The information is currently classified.” Ultra Magnus informed him.

“What about Silas?!” Miko shouted. “C’mon Mags, spill the beans! That guy was bad news, whatever happened to him, he deserved it right?” 

“As a member of Team Prime, you would do well to remember to show the proper respect to your Commander.” Ultra Magnus’ tone was now leaving no room at all for argument. He reached out and took Knock Out’s arm in his large hand. “Wheeljack, Perceptor, I expect you to report back to base on Cybertron immediately.”

“Of course, sir.” Perceptor said, his hand straying to Wheeljack’s arm when the pale mech’s field began roiling. “We will be right behind you.” To his credit, Wheeljack didn’t immediately shrug him away, though he seemed too overcome with rage to accept the gentle comfort that Perceptor was offering him. 

 

 

There was a greeting party waiting for them when they got back to Cybertron. Knock Out kept his head held high, his field pulled in tight so it didn’t betray his fear and anger. 

Arcee and Bulkhead stood together, the former with her arms folded and a rather haunted expression in her optics while the latter just shook his head and bared his denta. 

A group of Vehicons huddled off to one side, shuffling in discomfort like members of a riot who didn’t want to admit they may have been in the wrong. A second group, much smaller, stood with wings and heads up, one of them muttering something as Knock Out was marched past them. 

First Aid and Kup were in the hall, Knock Out finding himself passed from Ultra Magnus’ hands to those of the old war dog. 

“Make sure he gets to the brig in one piece, please.” The Commander’s voice was even, firm. There was no static, no pain, no betrayal. “Bumblebee, you and Springer are dismissed.” 

“I’m going with Kup.” Springer stated, Ultra Magnus rounding on him. 

“You’ve done enough. You’re dismissed soldier! That is an order.” The Commander’s bark made both First Aid and Bumblebee flinch, but Springer just frowned up at him before curling his lip and turning to go. “Knock Out, you’re to submit to processing, then you will be taken to the brig, where you will remain until you are brought before the Council for your hearing.” 

“What Council?” Knock Out asked, looking up at Ultra Magnus. 

“The one that was formed while you were away. A lot has been happening around here.” Ultra Magnus’ face betrayed the first flicker of emotion beyond a frown. He looked tired. He looked worn. 

“I hardly find it fair for me to be brought before a Council made of Autobots. Some of them have proved to be more than a little biased.” Knock Out said, shifting his wrists where they were shackled before him. 

“The Council isn’t made up of Autobots.” Ultra Magnus informed him. “Please proceed.”

First Aid took Knock Out’s arm and nodded, guiding him down the hall. The younger mech managed to keep his field professional, so as his face was also visored and masked, there was no way for Knock Out to tell how he was feeling. Kup was as infuriatingly casual as always, though he walked with a bit of a stiffer gait and was chewing on his cygar a little more than he normally did. 

“Smokescreen, stop.” A voice insisted as they moved further into the ship, Knock Out glancing over his shoulder. Bumblebee was attempting to hold the larger mech back, and the expression on the kid’s face made Knock Out feel like he had been punched in the gut. 

“Let go of me.” Shoving Bumblebee back hard, Smokescreen hurried forward. “Knock Out? I’m sorry, alright? I never meant for this to happen!” 

Knock Out’s optics widened and he stopped short. Kup ex-vented and turned to watch without saying anything, while First Aid shifted uncomfortably and gave Knock Out’s arm a tug. 

“This is not going to help anyone.” Bumblebee insisted, looking at Knock Out with a conflicted expression on his face. “Save it for the trial.” 

Smokescreen looked almost like he was in pain, denta grit and optics dull. “But I-” He said, Kup moving towards him. 

“Sorry kid, but this mech’s a prisoner now.” He said softly, giving Smokescreen’s arm a pat. “If you wanna help, you go get yourself well. Your friend’s gonna need you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Smokescreen said again, his voice choked. 

“Come on.” Bumblebee took hold of the larger mech and shuffled him back up the hall amidst quiet, mournful protests. 

“What was that all about?” First Aid asked.

Knock Out had no answer for him. In fact, Knock Out was fairly convinced he had much worse things to worry about than Smokescreen’s odd behavior. How this could possibly be the kid’s fault, Knock Out had no clue. 

Right now, his spark was spinning painfully fast. He could feel no shortage of rage, of fury, of PAIN from the other side of his bond, and it made him stop short and tug against First Aid’s grip. 

“Stop.” He said. “Something’s not right.” 

“Ultra Magnus will handle it.” Kup said gruffly, Knock Out looking up at him. Optics sharp and claws clenching once more into fists, the medic let some of that rage Wheeljack felt become his own. 

Lashing out would do no good. “Ultra Magnus couldn’t handle Wheeljack when he was under his direct command.” He said firmly. “He has absolutely NO hope of handling him now.” 

“Trust me when I say he’s handled worse.” Kup said, frowning. “And kid? It ain’t Wheeljack you gotta worry about Magnus handling.” 

Springer was a big mech. A VERY big mech. If Wheeljack decided to take a swing at him, he might do some damage. Springer would do worse if he had the chance and Knock Out felt his tanks churn at the thought of his Conjux being in the med bay without him there to fix him back up. 

“Am I correct in assuming there’s a fight going on?” First Aid asked in a small voice. When Knock Out and Kup exchanged a glance, the small mech ex-vented and handed Knock Out over to the old Wrecker. “Can you handle the processing yourself? They might need me.” 

“You got it.” Kup grunted. “I was a general, remember? I know how to process a prisoner.” 

“Please don’t make me come back down here.” First Aid said in a plaintive voice, moving swiftly back the way they had come. 

Kup and Knock Out stood looking at each other, the former with an eyebrow raised and the latter with a frown. Kup ex-vented and gestured down the hall, Knock Out drawing himself back up and moving towards the desk they had stationed outside the holding cells. 

“I don’t know much about this ‘Silas’ character, nor about any humans in general.” Kup said as he sat Knock Out down. “But from what I heard, ‘excessive’ doesn’t quite cut it. What’d he do? What did Silas do?” 

“Oh, not much.” Knock Out replied flippantly. “Just desecrated the corpse of my bond mate and wore it like a suit to keep himself alive after he was crushed.” 

Kup’s expression could be described as ‘stricken.’ Maybe even ‘horrified.’ Knock Out looked down at his shackles, flexing his claws in an attempt to calm himself. 

“Silas was a monster. Given the chance, he would have killed what few of us remain. Would have picked us apart! Reverse engineered new gadgets to make it easier to kill, to control… He didn’t even think twice about parading around like a parasite inside Breakdown’s chassis.” Gritting his denta, Knock Out shut his optics tightly. 

It still hurt. It was probably always going to hurt. He didn’t realize how much he was projecting his grief until he felt Wheeljack’s pain cave to desperate attempts at comfort through their bond. Clenching his hands so tightly, his claws cut into his palms, Knock Out let his head hang. 

“To say Silas deserved every single thing I did to him doesn’t quite cut it.” There was a great deal of venom in Knock Out’s voice, and when he raised his optics, Kup didn’t exactly look like he disagreed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: This contains a fight scene with plenty of robo gore

Ultra Magnus wasted no time in returning to his office, and it was only when the door was closed that he allowed his EM field to pull away from his frame. He didn’t think he had EVER felt so frustrated and lost before, and that was including the brief time he had been forced to take over the Wreckers during the aftermath of Impactor and a mech named Whirl. 

There was the soft clink of a cup being set down on the desk behind him, Ultra Magnus tensing and turning to look towards the source of it. 

For someone with a frame as large as hers was, Ultra Magnus’ not entirely unexpected guest was as quiet as Soundwave. When she stood, she was of a height with him, and Magnus reeled his EM field and emotions back in tightly as he faced her. 

“Did I come at a bad time?” Said the femme, her battle mask doing very little to hide the fact that she was smiling. 

“You know very well that right now it’s always a bad time, Councilwoman Strika.” Ultra Magnus said in return, drawing himself up with as much dignity as he could. 

“Acting Councilwoman, Commander.” Strika scolded, tilting her head to the side. “Until such a time as I, too, am incarcerated.” 

“Of course.” Ultra Magnus’ mouth turned down at the sides and he gestured for her to sit down again. “What can I do for you?” 

“I have a few papers I’d like you to read and sign. Important papers that will further our attempts at peace.” She said graciously, offering him a small stack of documents and retaking her seat. 

There was the sound of a loud crash outside the room, then the sound of shouting voices and what was clearly metal hitting metal. Ultra Magnus glanced at the door, then reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I honestly should have seen that coming.” He said, setting the datapads down. “Please excuse me, Acting Councilwoman. I may have to go make a few more arrests.” 

She just raised her eyebrows at him, picking up the cup of Energon she had set on the desk and taking a sip of it. 

 

Wheeljack didn’t care that there were dozens of people still in the bridge room when he got back to Cybertron. He didn’t care that Ultra Magnus’ office was within hearing range. He didn’t care that the Second AND Third in Command were both in the room.

As soon as he saw Springer coming up the hall, his feet were carrying him across the floor. Springer was bigger than him, but it didn’t matter since he managed to sucker punch the prick in the face without him realizing what was even going on. 

Springer went down with a shout and a crash. Wheeljack dropped on top of him and delivered several more sharp, angry punches, one of them knocking out one of the denta that First Aid had just replaced. 

As if finally realizing what was going on, Springer planted a fist in Wheeljack’s gut and started trying to scramble out from under him. 

“You piece of slag, what’d you say to Magnus?! What sort of lies did you fabricate, huh?!” Wheeljack shouted, Springer getting an elbow up and into the smaller mech’s throat, effectively cutting off his words. 

“What the frag, Wheeljack?! This wasn’t my fault!” Springer said, Wheeljack going for the cables in the larger mech’s shoulder with the hand he had bloodied by punching him. 

Fingers closed over something that felt important and Wheeljack pulled hard. The result was Spring’s arm going limp, and Wheeljack used his momentum to headbutt Springer as hard as he could. The extension on the front of his helm smashed a dent into Springer’s face, cracking his optic, and the larger mech struggled harder to get free. “Then why did you look so fraggin’ smug about it?!” Wheeljack said. 

“Hey! Cut it out, both of you!” Arcee said as she moved forward, but Bulkhead put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her behind him, the big mech looking on in concern. “Get in there and stop them.” She hissed. 

“I’m not getting in the middle of that. We need Ultra Magnus.” Bulkhead said, shaking his head. 

“He’s a fragging ‘Con and he deserves worse than being locked up!” Springer spat Energon into Wheeljack’s face, the pale mech snarling and pulling back his fist to strike again. Springer beat him to it, landing a solid punch across Wheeljack’s jaw with his good arm and shoving him off his frame. “You should hear what he did to that Silas guy!” Getting up, Springer kicked Wheeljack in the chest and sent him toppling backwards. “It’s some seriously fragged up torture he inflicted… you gotta admit that some people just don’t change, Wheeljack!” 

Vents heaving, Wheeljack tried to speak but let out a staticky gargle instead. Springer delivered another another kick to his chassis, grabbing hold of one of his door wings and wrenching it. Shouting in pain, Wheeljack tried to twist away. 

“That’s enough Springer!” Bulkhead moved forward to stop the orange and green mech, but Springer responded by shoving him backwards and pursuing Wheeljack as the pale mech attempted to crawl away.

Another kick and Wheeljack felt his tank heave, the floor beneath him becoming spattered with semi-processed Energon. He heard a cannon whine to life, then his head was crushed to the floor by swiftly heating metal. 

“Springer, no!” Arcee cried, her own weapons coming online. “Power down your weapons and stop this!” 

“Shut up. This is Wrecker business, two wheeler.” Springer hissed. “Besides, Jackie’s the one that started it.” 

“Me?” Wheeljack said, his voice full of static and rage. “I started this? I started this?!” 

Springer ground his cannon down harder and Wheeljack grit his denta. The floor shook beneath him and the pressure let up all at once, Springer’s horn going off in shock. 

“Whoa there, buddy.” An almost cheerful voice said.

Hands were tugging at him and Wheeljack heard Arcee murmur his name . He was aching, and the effort of moving made his tank clench. He retched a second time, then was hauled to his feet by Bulkhead. 

“I’ve got you, Jackie.” Bulkhead said, his field full of concern and disbelief. “Primus… we need to get him to a medic.” 

Looking up, Wheeljack felt his optics widen. There was a mech holding Springer in the air by his collar, and it had to be the biggest mech Wheeljack had seen in some time. Springer was hanging limply, and he was scowling, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him. 

“Wait a second.” Wheeljack said, continuing to stare at the much, much bigger mech. “Wait a fragging second… you’re a Decepticon!” 

“That’s what my badge says.” The big ‘Con smiled at him.

Ultra Magnus hurried onto the scene, Wheeljack seeing black spots beginning to crowd his vision. 

“I hope you’re both pleased with yourselves.” The Commander growled. “Once you’re done being treated, you’re going to be spending a few days in the brig thinking about what you’ve done.” 

“I am NOT going to prison cause this fragger couldn’t keep his fists to himself!” Springer protested. 

“And I’m not going to be just another statistic of that smug fragger’s grudge!” Wheeljack said. 

“It’s not my fault your Conjux is a sick bastard! Stop blaming me for what he brought upon himself!” Springer was now struggling to get down, but the bigger mech holding him didn’t relent. 

“Blackout, please take Springer to the med bay.” Ultra Magnus said. The enormous Decepticon nodded at him and moved out of the room with Springer in hand. “Wheeljack-”

“Commander, could I speak to him for a moment?” Smokescreen was pushing through the crowd that had gathered, and as Wheeljack watched, the racer batted Bumblebee’s grasping hands away from him. 

“Now is not the time, soldier.” Ultra Magnus said sternly, but Smokescreen wasn’t deterred. 

“Wheeljack? It wasn’t Springer that told Ultra Magnus about Silas. W-well, it WAS, but I’m the one who told Springer about him.” Smokescreen said hurriedly, Bumblebee freezing in place behind him and grimacing. 

“Silas was a waste of space and oxygen.” Wheeljack growled. “What could KO possibly have done to him that warrants this slag?” 

“He tortured him, Jackie.” Smokescreen’s lip wobbled. His optics looked rather dull. He had scuffs on his frame that looked like he had been stumbling into things. Primus… the kid was hungover. “I… I was there! I was there, I was strapped to a table in their med bay after Soundwave took me! I saw him! I WATCHED him!” 

“Primus, kid… did Springer get you overcharged?” Wheeljack grimaced. Smokescreen looked terribly guilty now, and Wheeljack was having a difficult time convincing himself that the kid didn’t need a punch in the face just as badly as Springer. 

Knock Out was panicking about something. He could feel grief very clearly through their bond and it made his head reel. He tried to pour as much comfort as he could back to his Conjux, but it was getting very difficult to concentrate. Actually it was getting really hard to vent too. 

As Bulkhead shifted Wheeljack’s weight, the black spots erupted in his vision again. “Eugh… I’m gonna pass out.” 

“Get him to the med bay too. Call Ratchet.” Ultra Magnus said the last part to Arcee, who nodded and moved off to do so. “And someone get this mess cleaned up! Those of you who are not currently at their stations need to return to them! Get back to work!” He looked at Wheeljack and shook his head. “There’s nothing more to see here.” 

“Whys’ere a ‘Con in here?” Wheeljack slurred, slumping into Bulkhead’s arms. 

 

Strika was exactly where she had been when Ultra Magnus left the office, though her glass was now almost empty. She had placed the three reports in neat piles on his desk, in order of importance. 

“You’re welcome.” She said, Ultra Magnus giving her a curious look. “I thought you may have needed some help, considering the commotion. I sent Blackout to see what he could do.” 

Ultra Magnus narrowed his optics, moving to stand in front of the desk. “I am still unsure as to why I’m trusting you, Acting Councilwoman Strika. Just as I am unclear on the decision of your vote in regards to Knock Out.”

"Whereas an armistice would dismiss a good majority of the violence between our two factions, to ignore actions against a third party would prove...disingenuous." She sipped her drink. "This is the sort of crime I was referring to on page seven." Strika tapped her finger against one of the carefully collated stacks. 

“So you voted on the basis of a law that hasn’t yet been agreed upon?” Ultra Magnus asked. 

“My dear Ultra Magnus.” Strika shook her head. “Honesty doesn’t begin upon the moment of signing. Think of it as starting over with our best foot forward.” 

Ultra Magnus couldn’t honestly argue with that. He gave her a calculating look, then sat down at the desk, pulling the closest of the piles towards himself in silence. 

Strika’s field filled with something that bordered on smugness. Ultra Magnus politely ignored this while reading her very carefully drafted papers. 

 

 

To add insult to injury, Knock Out got to sit in his cell and feel his bond go silent. The sheer bloody panic that welled up in him made his field burst out in all directions, and the two Vehicon guards posted outside looked up at him in surprise and alarm. 

Trying to reign himself in, Knock Out approached the black out rationally. Wheeljack wasn’t dead. It would hurt more if he was dead. There was a chance he had just been knocked unconscious. 

Which was not helping him at all!! He had to be there, he had to fix him! He had to help his Conjux!

“I need to speak to First Aid.” He said, the Vehicons looking at him silently. “Please, for the love of Primus, I think my bondmate is hurt.” 

“If he’s hurt, then First Aid will find out soon enough.” One of the Vehicons said. “I’m going to get us some rations.” They said to the other Vehicon, tapping their arm and standing. 

As soon as they were out of earshot, the second Vehicon turned to look at Knock Out. “Hey.” They said in a rather theatrical stage whisper. “If I had been in your position, sir? I would have done the same thing.” 

Knock Out rolled his optics. “That’s something you’ll likely want to keep to yourself.” He said, leaning against the bars. “Could you contact First Aid for me, please?”

“Already done.” The Vehicon shrugged their shoulders. “I did it as soon as you asked the first time. I’m LD-4427.” They fell silent for a moment, then looked up at Knock Out with an apologetic field. “Your Conjux got in a fight with Springer. I don’t think either of them won, really, but Wheeljack’s unconscious and in ‘serious condition.’”

“I should be up there.” Knock Out said, standing away from the bars and folding his arms. “There had better be no visible damage on him once First Aid is done!”

“I’m sure First Aid will do his best.” LD-4427 said, shrugging their shoulders a bit. “What can you do? You’re in jail.” 

Knock Out glared at the Vehicon in silence. 

They were right, though. All he could do at this point was wait.

Waiting at the end of that silent bond was agony. So soon after Breakdown, and after his very recent reminder of how Breakdown’s life ended and what had happened to his frame afterwards, Knock Out was completely overwhelmed by grief. 

What if Wheeljack didn’t wake up? What if he never felt that spark of fire at the other end of the bond? Never heard his voice, never got to feel his touch? 

Hours went by. He couldn’t do this again.

The inhibitor clip on his leg wouldn’t let him transform, so he began sharpening his claws on the bars. The noise made the Vehicon guards come over, one of them shaking their head. “Please stop. That is literally the worst noise I’ve ever heard and I worked alongside Starscream.” 

Knock Out glared at them furiously, flexing his claws. He opened his mouth to speak…

And unbelievable pain and confusing bloomed in him, coming from halfway across the base. 

_Wheeljack? Wheeljack! Speak to me! Are you alright?_ He called out frantically, getting a few muffled sensations before Wheeljack registered what was going on and muttered his name. 

_Gonna kill ‘im_. Wheeljack said simply, without any further explanation. 

_Go right ahead, love_. Knock Out let out a breathless laugh out loud. _I’m so relieved. I thought I had lost you._

_Gonna KILL him_. Wheeljack growled, Knock Out trying to soothe him. 

_I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. Not in your state…_ Knock Out straightened, then moved immediately to sit on his small berth. _Wheeljack, I need access to your systems. I need to see how bad the damage is._

There was a long silence, a storm of emotions, then Wheeljack frustratedly asked _How?_

_Just lower your firewalls!_ Knock Out frowned, trying to concentrate. 

 

 

Wheeljack could feel his Conjux rooting around in his processor as if the medic were in the room and plugged into him. He did his best not to squirm on the table. 

First Aid was still in the room, but it was quiet. It was late. 

_Wheeljack, please tell me you at least managed to hurt Springer half as much as he hurt you_. Knock Out said in irritation. One of Wheeljack’s fans turned on, squealing in protest, and the Wrecker grimaced as First Aid looked over at him. _That one’s damaged. This vent is damaged_. One of Wheeljack’s vents flared open, then closed, and his fan shut off. 

_KO, this is really weird. Also, First Aid’s lookin’ at me funny_. He said, Knock Out responding by rerouting his internal repairs straight to his processing tank. It was disconcerting to have systems triggered without his say, but since it was his Conjux doing it, he tried hard not to fight it. 

_Your tank was perforated, Aid did a good job fixing that but it still needs some help. Let’s see here…_ Wheeljack’s engine suddenly roared and there was the sound of First Aid dropping tools on the floor in alarm. 

“I swear to Primus, I am not doing this on purpose.” Wheeljack said weakly as First Aid came over to examine him. 

“Are… are you glitching?” First Aid said, doing a quick scan. “Wheeljack, all your firewalls are down! Your system is being invaded!” 

“It’s Knock Out.” Wheeljack felt his optics blink off, then back on again, and First Aid’s response was drowned out by his audials being taken offline. _You’re scaring the tiny doctor._ He informed his Conjux. 

“Wheeljack?” First Aid was now hooking into him, looking a little frantic. 

“I told you, it’s Knock Out. He’s checkin’ in on me.” Wheeljack’s leg kicked out involuntarily, and he couldn’t help letting out a high pitched laugh. “This is ridiculous. They made the biggest mistake putting a mech like him in a cell with nothing to do.” All of his fingers were twitching now, then his door wings flexed. Since he was laying down, that was actually rather uncomfortable and he grunted. 

“This is amazing. I didn’t even think it was possible to have this extent of control over a mech via spark bond.” First Aid said, optics wide behind his visor. 

They both fell silent when Wheeljack’s interface array came online. Wheeljack shut his optics. Mortification crept into his field. A few seconds too many passed, then his array went offline again. 

_Need to make sure everything’s in working order_. Knock Out said in a very business like tone. _Also, I’m fairly sure you have a concussion_. 

_Yeah. No fragging kidding_. Wheeljack said in reply, unable to even look at First Aid again. He heard the smaller mech murmur an apology, inform him to get some rest, then Aid unhooked himself and stepped away. _You’re bored, aren’t you?_

_No. I’m concerned. I’m locked in a cell and unable to be with you_. Knock Out said heatedly. 

_I’m sorry… KO, we’re not gonna let you stay in there. This isn’t fair. I don’t care if you tortured that piece of garbage, I really don’t_. Wheeljack reached up a trembling hand and put it over his face. 

_Be that as it may… one moment, someone’s coming_. Knock Out’s presence retreated and Wheeljack shifted on his recovery berth to try and dispel the strange tingling in all his limbs. He put his firewalls back up and felt Knock Out’s surprise on the other end of the bond. The surprise was followed by an icy slither of fear. 

 

There was no mistaking the warframe that approached his cell. Though he had only ever seen pictures and grainy video of that massive frame, Knock Out knew exactly who it belonged to. 

“I judge from your expression that you know who I am.” General Strika spoke with the rich tones of a noble, and her calculating optics seemed to pin the medic in place. 

“Of course. You are General Strika, one of the greatest warlords ever to stand with the Decepticons.” Knock Out tried to keep his tone even, drawing himself up a little so that it didn’t appear he was being submissive. “I must say, General, the stories did your majesty no justice.” Also, there was never any harm in employing a little flattery. 

“I am here to make sure you’re being treated fairly during your imprisonment.” She arched a brow ridge and looked down at him. 

Primus help him, she was so much like Megatron. Knock Out clamped his armor to his frame, venting carefully. “My jailers have been fair indeed.” He said. “Thank you for your concern. Though I am curious as to why you’re here at all.” 

“Ultra Magnus and I, being of a rank with one another but on opposite sides, have come together to discuss an armistice. The Decepticons have willingly surrendered and agreed to a ceasefire.” Strika said, folding her hands behind her back. “That is why I am here. You are here because I needed a chance to even the political playing field.” 

Knock Out stared up at her. Stricken silent by her implications, he reset his vocalizer. “I’m sorry, could you explain that to me?” He said quietly. 

“As it stands, the Autobots are very much in control. We may have them outgunned, but what is that going to offer anyone in the end? There are so few of us left that a ceasefire is in everyone’s best interests.” Strika said. “But the difficulty with a decision of that sort is that the Autobots, with their squeaky clean reputation and their ivory towers, have been making us out to be monsters.” 

“If your wish is to tarnish that reputation by having me dragged through the mud, I regret to inform you that I’m hardly the model of an Autobot citizen. I’m only with them because their Prime told them I ought to be.” Knock Out said, voice strained. His spark was hammering uncomfortably fast. “I don’t think setting me up as a martyr will help anyone either.” 

“Suffice it to say, I have evidence to cast the light of doubt upon the prosecution.” Strika said, and Knock Out had heard a tone like that before. Usually it went hand in hand with a smile full of very, very sharp teeth. “You ought to get some rest, doctor. You will be escorted to the proceedings tomorrow morning.” 

“And why are you the one down here, telling me this?” Knock Out asked heatedly as she turned. 

“Ah, forgive me. I should have said sooner.” Strika turned to look at him again. “I am no longer a General. For now, I am acting as a Councilwoman. I will be playing a part in your defense. Recharge well, doctor.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Vomiting, violence, little bit of horror and some gore.

The proceedings were delayed. His rations were delivered to him and he was informed he had to wait a few days for things to finish being set up. “A question, if you don’t mind, RF-2364?” Knock Out asked as he took the Energon through the bars of his cell. 

The Vehicon paused when he addressed them, a subtle flicker in their field proving the drone’s surprise that he had remembered them. “Yessir?” They said, turning to face him again. 

“Do you know exactly who the ‘Council’ is?” Knock Out leaned against the bars in a casual manner. RF-2364 regarded him from behind their visor, making him unable to see their expression at all. “My Conjux and I were gone for five days and suddenly, we have one. I’m just wondering exactly what I missed. It must have been something big considering Strika’s wandering the base freely.” 

The Vehicon hesitated, glancing up the hall before stepping a touch closer to the bars. “Almost as soon as you left, a skirmish broke out.” They said softly. “No one even thought twice before throwing themselves into the fight. You would have thought the war had never ended.” They twisted their fingers together and looked away. 

“And then?” Knock Out prompted them to keep speaking, the Vehicon straightening and turning their full attention to the doctor again. 

“And then General Strika showed up and Ultra Magnus went onto the field himself. He told them all that the war had ended. Someone played the clip, the one of Lord Megatron himself disbanding the Decepticons.” There was something almost wistful in the way they said it but also shame in their voice, RF-2364 once again looking away. “General Strika called for the Decepticon fighters to lower their weapons. She had them all surrender.”

“Strika mentioned an armistice.” Knock Out pulled away from the bars and began pacing in his cell. 

“She and Ultra Magnus started working on it almost immediately. I think the Commander was just eager to stop the bloodshed. Not that I blame him. Apparently, when a few of her lieutenants refused to lay down their weapons, Strika made an example of them. I’m really sorry about all this, sir.” RF-2364 said, also stepping back. “If I could do more, I would.” 

“Why would you bother, RF-2364? I’m evidently a monster, a butcher as they say. Why would you want to help a mech like me?” Knock Out asked, his EM field filling with bitterness and irritation. There were a few of these Vehicons that kept apologizing, kept asking him if there was anything they could do. He wasn’t sure if it was their subservient nature or if it was something else. 

“You saved my life once.” RF-2364 said simply, shrugging their shoulders. “I figure I owe you something for that.” 

Knock Out couldn’t recall ever saving this drone, though their serial seemed to be in his data banks in a sequence with three others. That as the biggest problem about identical MTO’s. You honestly couldn’t tell them apart even with their serial numbers. 

“While the sentiment is wonderfully polite and would be generally appreciated, right now it’s annoying. To a rather irrational degree, even! Annoying enough that if you were any closer to me, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions.” Knock Out said with a smile, the Vehicon backing a little further away and putting a hand to their chest. He made a show of draining his Energon ration in one go, crumpling the empty cube and tossing it at their feet before turning his back. 

He heard the Vehicon come forward to get the cube slowly and very carefully, then their footsteps echoed up the hall and he was left alone. 

 

_He could hear it in the other room, shifting and groaning. He could hear the sick rattle of its vents, could hear what sounded like slurred attempts at speaking. Smokescreen was strapped to a Decepticon operating table, but the thing in the next room scared him more than that._

_If he craned his neck, leaned up on the table as far as he could with his hands bound the way they were, he could just see it._

_Cybertronian in frame, but stitched together like a creature from the horror movies that Miko loved watching. Smokescreen quickly lay back down, not wanting to see more._

_Knock Out came into the room, pausing in the door when he heard the thing fussing. Smokescreen stared at him with wide optics and Knock Out smiled._

_It was a slithering sort of smile, something that would have been better suited to being worn by a mech like Megatron._

_The red grounder moved into the next room and Smokescreen heard a choking cry of fury and alarm from the creature there. “Knock Out… Knock Out!” It howled, and the fact that it recognized the mech made Smokescreen’s tank clench. “I’ll kill you… I’ll kill you!”_

_“So you threaten every single day, and yet here I am again.” Knock Out chided, the sound of claws dragging down the thing’s frame making Smokescreen wince._

_“No… no! No! NO! Not again!” It was an anguished, furious sort of begging, and Smokescreen could hear the rattling of the the thing’s armor as it struggled to get free. “No! Stop this!”_

_“Come now, Silas, no need to be squeamish.” Knock Out purred. “You’re not well, you need your medicine!”_

_“No! No, no please, not again!”_

_“Not to mention, with you being such a layabout, you’re definitely going to require more physical stimulation.” There was something so incredibly predatory about Knock Out’s voice, and his words were followed by the whine of a shock rod starting up._

_Screaming. So much screaming. The creature named Silas shrieked in agony, gasping and choking before screaming again as more and more charge was applied to him._

_“What’s the matter, Silas? You can dish it but you can’t take it?” Knock Out asked, Silas once again lapsing into begging and denial. “I thought you were made of sterner stuff!”_

_“Just k-kill me! You can’t keep me here! You can’t keep doing this!” Silas’s voice was broken and raw._

_“I’m sorry, I believe I’m the professional here. I know exactly how much you can take… and as I have previously proved, if I push you a little too far? I’ll just bring you back again.” Knock Out said in a dark tone._

_“No! No, please, just kill me! Just kill me! Kill me!! KILL ME!!” Silas shouted, Knock Out having to raise his voice to be heard over his continued chanting._

_“I wonder what will happen if I give you a bit of a jolt right here?!” Knock Out cried gleefully, and Silas’ voice reached an impossible pitch. “Faaaascinating… what about right here?!”_

_On and on it went. Now venting hard, Smokescreen tried to block out the sounds, focusing on his internal chronometer. The sick feeling in his tanks wouldn’t let up… the screaming was echoing in his audials…_

Smokescreen clawed his way to consciousness, heaving to his feet and scrambling for his wash racks. He barely made it before he could no longer hold it, purging noisily onto the floor. His HUD filled with errors, his failsafes shorted out and he fell to his knees. 

Tanks emptying, Smokescreen found himself clawing at the counter for support so he didn’t fall face first in the mess he was making. The bitter taste of partially processed Energon filled his mouth, lubricant was sliding down his cheeks as his eyes overflowed with it and his vents kept hitching as he tried desperately to draw in fresh air. 

His helm was aching, and it seemed to be negatively affecting his optics. There were spots crowding his vision, and the error messages started turning red. What Springer had referred to as a ‘few harmless drinks’ the other night were certainly feeling much less harmless now.

Smokescreen couldn’t shake off the lingering effects of his memory flux. The event he had recalled had been terrible, it had been frightening, but he didn’t remember it being as bad as his processor was currently telling him. 

Activating his comm, Smokescreen managed to send a halting message to First Aid before pushing himself away from the wash racks and passing out on his side on the floor of his hab suite. 

 

The day had started with First Aid being up to his elbows, then up to his optics, and now it was safe to say that he was in over his head. The med bay was packed to the brim with refugees and returning citizens that needed all manner of care, be it inoculations for Cosmic Rust, broken struts set or war wounds tended. He only had so many hands and so much time. 

Setting his medical protocols to high let First Aid sift through the messages on his private comm while he worked. He put the higher priority ones where he could read them while he was cleaning his hands between patients, shuffling others that weren’t as important to other files to be looked at later. 

A few times, he had to send people down to the brig to ask Knock Out for advice on how to do something he either hadn’t trained for or wasn’t familiar with. 

Now he was literally up to his elbows inside a patient and Smokescreen was sending him something that had a subject that was indecipherable. Seeing as Smokescreen was technically part of the Command staff, First Aid had no choice but to open the message, setting it up in his peripheral while he attempted to find and drain the impacted vent that was threatening to kill the mech he worked on. 

It was gibberish. Mostly gibberish. There were a few instances where he could mostly make out words like ‘help’ and near the bottom, most of the word ‘emergency.’ He sent a ping to Smokescreen, followed by a second after a moment with no answer. When there was no response to his subsequent attempts at communication, First Aid began to feel uneasy. 

Activating his comm again, he contacted Arcee. She was on duty and Ultra Magnus had requested that anyone who had important business contact her while he was dealing with armistice business. 

:: Everything alright, First Aid? :: Arcee said after he pinged her. 

:: Not exactly. I got a rather… distressing message from Smokescreen and he’s not answering his comm. Sorry to bother you, sir, but could you send someone over to check on him? I’m actually more busy than I have any right to be. :: He replied, making a soft noise of irritation when his tool slipped and he almost lost it in the patient’s innards. 

:: Will do. Thanks for the heads up. :: Arcee said, signing off. 

“First Aid?” A voice called from the door, and the sound of it almost made the small mech cry. “Someone mentioned you may require some assistance. I’m not a medic, but I may be able to lighten your load a little.” 

“Perceptor, you beautiful mech you.” First Aid said happily. “Thank you, thank you, a million times thank you. I hate to say this, but I think we might need to pull Ratchet away from his cave and have him out here instead. He and I could probably run surgery if you wanted to take clinic.” 

“I will send him a message.” Perceptor nodded, reaching up to take the targeting patch from his optic and tucking it into his subspace. “Wheeljack has also offered to do what he can. He’s still recovering, but his hands are able.”

“Great! Fantastic!” There was a hiss from beneath First Aid’s hand and he let out a shout of triumph when he finally got the patient’s vent draining. “There we are! The hard part’s over.” He assured the unconscious mech. “Thank goodness…” 

 

Knock Out’s afternoon ration was brought to him by whom he assumed was LD-4427. As it turned out, it was actually LD-4426, their split spark ‘brother,’ and he blamed his mistake on the fact that Ultra Magnus had no idea how to properly ration Energon for mechs with high performance engines. 

“I thought you might want to know that Springer just got hauled into the Commander’s office.” LD-4426 said, Knock Out raising a brow. “There was a lot of shouting, but word around camp is that Smokescreen’s in pretty bad shape and it’s Springer’s fault.” 

Knock Out looked at the Vehicon pointedly. Resetting his vocalizer, LD-4426 hastily continued. 

“Turns out Springer gave him Nightmare Fuel. I don’t want to speak out against Smokescreen’s character seeing as he’s one of the nicer mechs around, but he’s sort of… new at the whole drinking thing.” LD-4426 said in hushed tones, Knock Out facepalming. 

“Where did Springer even GET the Nightmare Fuel?” He asked, the Vehicon shaking his head and shrugging in a very apt impression of his twin. “No wonder Smokescreen looked so awful yesterday.” 

“He was passed out in his room. Apparently a few of the maintenance crew are STILL trying to clean up the mess in there.” LD-4426 shuddered lightly. 

“I can’t believe he was desperate enough for information that he drugged Smokescreen on the POSSIBILITY of coaxing it out of him.” Knock Out growled. “But wait just a second… how in the world did Springer know Smokescreen had any information at all?”

“I don’t know, sir. But I can try and find out?” LD-4426 offered, sounding eager. 

“Please do.” Knock Out paused. “And pass any of your findings on to Acting Councilwoman Strika. She’ll know better what to do with it.” 

Nodding, the Vehicon hurried off, leaving Knock Out with more unanswered questions. 

_Wheeljack, I’m hungry._ He said over the bond in irritation, trying to savor the ration he had been given. _You need to tell Ultra Magnus he’s starving me._

There was a flicker of amusement that was tinged with worry through the bond. _I can do that. They’ve got me helping out with a few things in the med bay, but I should be taking a break soon and I’ll let him know._

_Good._ Knock Out huffed, trying to make himself comfortable on the berth. He glared at the scuffs he was covered with, having had no time to clean up between Miko’s assault and being hauled to the brig. _Think you could convince him to allow me to have my rotary buffer?_

_That might be a stretch, sweet spark, but I will do my best_. Wheeljack said, sending a pulse of warmth and longing to him. 

_Wait a second… why are you helping in the med bay? Aren’t you supposed to be resting? You have a concussion!_ Knock Out protested, Wheeljack effectively flinching. 

_It’s light work, KO, don’t worry. Just puttin’ bandaids on bots and welding digits back on, that sorta thing_. Wheeljack explained, Knock Out scoffing out loud. 

_First Aid can’t do these things himself?_ He asked.

_Aid’s been in surgery since early this morning. We’re gettin’ ships full of people comin’ back home and not all of them are in good shape_. Wheeljack said grimly. 

There was a commotion up the hall, Knock Out getting to his feet and setting his half finished ration down on the berth so he could go and see what was happening. 

Blackout, a massive Decepticon who was a lieutenant during the war, was striding boldly along with Springer in hand, Kup flanking him. The old Autobot General was smoking a cygar, as usual, but he was puffing on it furiously and had his brows deeply furrowed. 

“No need to set him down gently.” Kup said to Blackout as they passed Knock Out’s cell and moved to the one on the very end. 

Far enough away that they couldn’t see each other, but not far enough that Knock Out wouldn’t have to endure the terrible racket that Springer was making. 

“I am going to squash that stupid tiny excuse for a head on your shoulders!” Springer howled, kicking his legs. “Put me down! If you don’t put me down right now, I am going to gnaw your fragging hand off!”

“Don’t mind him, he’s just humiliated himself to the point where even he can recognize he’s a fragging disgrace.” Kup snarled, Blackout depositing Springer in the cell and allowing the old Autobot to slam the door closed. “Next time you pull a stunt like this, I am not only going to have you dragged down here like a naughty sparkling throwing a tantrum in a toy store, but I’m going to make sure you’ve got no choice but to be dragged cause both your Primus damned legs are going to be broken!” 

“What. The frag. Is your problem?!” Springer rattled the bars of his cell. “The kid’s going to live! It’s not my fault he can’t handle his high grade!” 

“You call that poison you fed him high grade?” Kup scoffed. “You might as well have fed him the sludge at the bottom of an Engex processing barrel, you thick headed, selfish, sorry excuse for a mech!” 

“Primus, Kup!” Springer protested. “It wasn’t-”

“Behavior like that is going to cost us in the end, Springer.” Kup said over him. “Ultra Magnus has NOT busted his aft off to get this far in a few short days just to have petty slag like this tear everything down around him. Stay in there, cool your head and try to learn a little humility, you rust heap.” 

The old mech slammed his fist into the bars, then turned and stormed back the way he came. Blackout followed, pausing in front of Knock Out’s cell. 

“Doctor.” He said, nodding at him. “Please let me know if Springer is making trouble for you. I will come straighten him out.”

A little bewildered, Knock Out nodded at him and watched him smile brilliantly before lumbering away. The war had apparently not been kind to Blackout. The big rotary looked as though he were being held together by nothing but rivets and rust, and he spoke in a subtly halting way that indicated damage to his processor. 

Listening to Springer rage in his cell, Knock Out realized that the war hadn’t been kind to any of them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writer's block has been kicking my butt. I'm so sorry for the delay!

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of Ultra Magnus’ tanks, one that was just getting deeper and stronger. He read over the report in front of him again, his optics closing and his hand moving to pinch his nasal ridge. 

The prospects didn’t look good. The evaluation he held was damning. It indicated that Knock Out was completely, absolutely criminally responsible for his actions and that diagnosis would hold far heavier consequences. 

There was a light knock on the door, Ultra Magnus straightening and resetting his vocalizer before calling for his guest to enter. 

Arcee pushed the door open, offering him a knowing smile and setting a cube of energon on the desk in front of him. “Figured you could use some fuel, sir. How are things going?” She said, Ultra Magnus gesturing for her to sit. 

“To be completely honest with you, Lieutenant… not very well.” He said, scraping his hand down his faceplates. 

“Is that Rung’s evaluation?” Arcee indicated the data pad, and Ultra Magnus gave a short nod. “Is the good doctor going to get away with an insanity plea?” 

“No.” Ultra Magnus frowned. “Rung wrote that he is ‘of sound mind and considerable intelligence.’” 

“But that means he can’t get out this. Isn’t that a good thing?” Arcee said, brow twitching. “Sir, what he did was awful.” 

“Yes. It was.” Ultra Magnus said quietly, sitting back in his chair. 

“I’m sensing a big ‘but’ in there, sir.” Arcee fixed him with a piercing stare. “Are you having second thoughts about the trial?”

“No. In order for us to see this armistice is successful, Knock Out needs to answer for the crimes he’s been charged with.” Ultra Magnus picked up the data pad and put it on top of a pile of them on the edge of his desk. “The rest of the Council arrives tomorrow.”

“Then this will all be over soon.” Arcee assured him, reaching out to touch his hand. “He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

Ultra Magnus gave her a rather disapproving look. “Justice will be served, Lieutenant.” He said firmly.

“I will be holding you to that, sir.” Arcee replied. 

 

It seemed so terribly stereotypical that a mad scientist would choose a desolate little corner in the middle of nowhere for a ‘secret lab.’ Even more stereotypical that he would employ his own home grown, manufactured soldiers to guard the outside of said lab to keep the wayward from discovering it. 

Flatline glanced down at the meager harvest he had gathered, mouth twisting behind his battlemask. Shockwave wouldn’t be pleased. This was going to slow their progress.

To make matters worse, there seemed to be something agitating the sentries. Both the young brutes hand their armor puffed up and were looking at him with hungry, burning optics as he approached. They were used to Flatline by now, or at least he had thought so. 

There was a deep, basso rumble coming from inside, and Flatline grimaced. Obviously, he had missed drama of some sort.

Drawing himself up to his full and rather impressive height, Flatline strode through the doors of the lab. Just inside, the towering and brightly biolit figure of Predaking was looming over Shockwave, sharp denta bared and optics practically throwing fire. The scientist had his single optic fixed on the beast and was not backing down from the obvious threat display. 

On a good day, Flatline might have enjoyed the confrontation, but today hadn’t been a good one. He took the containment unit he held and dropped it loudly on his neatly organized work table. Shockwave didn’t even flinch, but Predaking turned to look at him with a quiet snarl. 

“Did you break your toy again?” Flatline asked, tilting his helm to the side and narrowing his optics. “Come to beg us to fix it?” 

“I do not beg.” Predaking said, lips pulling back so all of his sharp denta were exposed. He was venting hot, his inner fire making his frame practically radiate. “I do, however, demand your services, doctor.” 

“I do nothing with the permission of Shockwave. I wish to remain in his good graces as long as he’ll have me.” Flatline said with a vague hand gesture. “So unless he tells me to, you’re just wasting your breath, but you can demand all you like.” 

Sometimes he wished the beast would just take a swing at him. He hadn’t had a good fight in too long. Refuelled, maintained and sheltered here in the lab, Flatline was in peak condition. 

“It is a waste of our dwindling resources.” Shockwave said firmly in response to their conversation. “I cannot condone your continued brutality if it means we are stuck cleaning up your mess. Even with your more feral nature, your desire for revenge should have burned itself out by now. Your actions are illogical.” 

“Then perhaps you should have civilized me a little better.” Predaking said, his anger dying down until it was simmering rather than boiling over. “I promise, we will savor it from now on.”

“I have the time.” Flatline looked over at Shockwave. “They’re starting to get wise to us. I only managed to get three today. The rest stayed too far off for me to reach.” 

“Three?” Shockwave pinned him with a glare and Flatline nodded, mouth pulling into a tight line beneath his mask. “That will not lend itself well to our progress. Too few. We will have to go harvest again soon.” 

“Unless we manage to make some sort of a breakthrough this time.” Flatline remarked, skirting around the still looming Predacon. “Well?” 

Shockwave looked between him and Predaking, letting out a soft noise of disapproval but waving his single hand in a dismissive manner. Walking over to Flatline’s work table, he lifted the vessel that held three frantically glowing sparks. His field made his distaste of such a poor harvest as clear as his previous words had. 

“Where’s your pet, huh?” Flatline looked up at Predaking. He figured he would give Shockwave time to cool off. “I’ll take a look at him and see what I can do.” 

 

Smokescreen looked around the med bay with wide optics, preparing to edge back out the door before he was spotted. The recovery area was packed. Almost every berth was occupied. The air reeked of anti-rust agent, purged energon and burnt metal and rubber. 

First Aid was currently reattaching the arm of a refugee that had arrived last night, one that he hadn’t had the time to tend to until now, and it was him that waved Smokescreen in. “Ratchet’s in surgery. If it’s not an emergency, you can sit over there on a spare bench and wait for me. If it’s really minor, you can have Wheeljack tend to you. He’s in Recovery.” 

“You guys look pretty swamped, so-” Smokescreen began, First Aid giving him a rather long suffering look. “So I’ll just uh… wait my turn over here.” He gestured to the bench that already sat a couple other mechs, moving to sit down with a grimace. 

One of the mechs sitting there had a rust infection that had eaten part of his leg. He seemed in surprisingly good spirits regardless of this. The one on the other side of Smokescreen was barely conscious but didn’t have any visible wounds. 

Smokescreen leaned back, drumming his fingers on his knees and watching what First Aid was doing. The mech he was working on was either recharging or was sedated because he didn’t even flinch when the diminutive doctor seized his freshly reattached limb and began flexing and jerking it around to make sure it was put on right. 

Nodding in satisfaction, First Aid started trying to shove the gurney the mech was on out of the way, Smokescreen getting up to assist him. He received a flash of grateful/thankful/tired from First Aid’s field, offering the smaller mech a pat on the shoulder before returning to his seat. 

Aid gave the dozing mech a bottle of medicine and ushered him out, then took the mech with the rust infection to one of the few free berths that was in the room.

“This won’t be long. Sorry for the wait.” First Aid said to Smokescreen, who just shook his head and gestured to let him know it was alright. 

It seemed like things down here were a mess. Smokescreen wondered if Ultra Magnus was aware of how bad it had gotten. He had never seen the med bay in such a sorry state, with tools and energon and empty tubes and glasses laying on every surface. The floor was stained with all manner of fluids…

Seeing as his problem was more of the processor and less of the frame, Smokescreen got up and began tidying. He dumped used tools into a sink after cleaning it out, picked up the stuff cluttering the floor and was about to start mopping when the door to Recovery opened and Wheeljack limped out. 

“Hey Jackie.” Smokescreen said as cheerfully as he could, knocking over the empty mop bucket as he jerked the arm holding the mop upwards. 

Wheeljack froze in spot, staring at Smokescreen with an unreadable expression before offering him a nod and a mumble. He limped to the sink, took a look at the mess in and around it, and turned on the solvent. 

“How’s it goin’, kid?” Wheeljack said softly, Smokescreen clenching his fingers around the handle of the mop. “Feelin’ any better?” 

“Y-yeah! Loads… almost at a hundred percent, y’know?” Smokescreen shuffled the bucket over to the sink and waited his turn. “Just came in for some suppressors.” 

“Still havin’ nightmares?” Wheeljack gave him an almost sympathetic look and Smokescreen tried to force himself to relax. 

“Yeah. Yeah I am. Ratchet says they ought to stop soon, now that I’ve worked most of the poison out of my system.” He said, and Wheeljack stepped back, gesturing for him to fill the bucket. “Thanks.” 

“Normally, people who drink that slag do so every night. It’s the stuff that happens when you withdrawal from it that gives it the nifty moniker.” Wheeljack said gruffly, watching as the mop bucket filled. He winced and pressed a hand to his side. Smokescreen could feel heat wafting off of the Wrecker and grimaced. 

“Internal repair?” He asked, Wheeljack smirking and nodding. 

“Gotta love it. S’makin’ it the Pit to recharge. Keeps wakin’ me up with warnings cause my engine’s not tuned up enough and I’m not running at optimal efficiency and blah blah blah.” Wheeljack rolled his optics. 

Smokescreen snorted out a brief laugh and tugged the bucket across the room to begin cleaning up what looked like an oil spill. Wheeljack moved to cupboard and pulled something out, whistling to get Smokescreen’s attention. He then tossed the racer a packet, and Smokescreen felt a touch of relief move through him. 

“Bring back what you don’t use.” Wheeljack said, nodding at him before moving to the sink and beginning to wash tools. 

While it wasn’t an apology on the part of either of them, it seemed to be a bridge crossing of sorts and Smokescreen felt a tension he hadn’t been aware of loosen in his shoulders and back strut. 

 

Ultra Magnus called Arcee and Bulkhead down to the bridge room very, very early in the morning. When Bulkhead had inquired as to whether or not they ought to look their best for the meeting with the Counselors, the Commander assured him it wasn’t necessary. 

There was a ceasefire, yes, but they were still at war. There was no need to be perfectly polished. 

The first of the Counselors had arrived before Arcee managed to make it to the bridge room, the SIC moving hurriedly to join Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead as the Commander began his introductions. 

“And this is my Lieutenant, Arcee.” Ultra Magnus gave her a terse nod when she approached and Arcee returned it before looking at the mech now extending his hand towards her in an offered handshake. “Arcee, Bulkhead, this is Councilman Cyclonus, one of the Decepticon Armada generals.” 

Arcee eyed the claws on the offered hand before taking it and making sure her handshake was firm. There was no emotion flickering in Cyclonus’ ruby optics, nor any betrayed by his tightly coiled field. 

“A pleasure. Welcome to the base.” She said, Cyclonus nodding and turning his gaze to Ultra Magnus. 

“Where will we be staying? If you don’t mind, I have travelled a great distance and require recharge before the briefing and proceedings commence.” Cyclonus said, his voice deep but slightly hoarse in a manner that suggested either disuse or injury. 

“Of course, Councilman. Bulkhead, could you please lead the the way to the barracks?” Ultra Magnus said with a nod to Bulkhead. The big mech gestured to Cyclonus, engaging him in polite conversation as they moved down the hall. “Your thoughts?” 

“I have the casualty report from Kimia. I’m sure you do too.” Arcee said, tense and bitter. 

“Strika assures me that Cyclonus is as invested in this armistice as she is.” Ultra Magnus said, turning his eyes back to the bridge as it activated again. 

“That doesn’t do very much to calm my nerves, sir.” Arcee muttered, Ultra Magnus frowning down at her. 

A pair of mechs walked through the bridge, apparently having some sort of quiet disagreement, and Arcee drew herself up a little straighter. She knew these two… she didn’t think there was an Autobot who didn’t know these two. Part of her was terribly relieved to see they were still alive, another part was even more relieved that they were here for the trial.

While Justice was Ultra Magnus’ middle name, it might as well have been the title of the mech on the left. Around Bumblebee’s height, painted black and white and sporting a chevron and a graceful set of door wings, Prowl turned briefly from his companion to look at his greeters. 

“Settle an argument fer us, Magnus.” The right hand mech said gruffly, moving to clasp Ultra Magnus’ hand like an old friend. “Tell me all that hogwash bout Optimus ain’t true.” 

“I wish I could, Ironhide.” Ultra Magnus said with a pained expression. 

“Ah slag.” Ironhide reached up and put his hand over his optics. He looked as though he had recently been in battle. There was energon dried near a jagged, poorly healed wound on one side and he was covered in scrapes and dust. Mostly red and black and about the same size as Bulkhead, he was an imposing figure. “Fraggin’ Prime… Just had ta go an’ play the martyr again.” 

“My condolences.” Prowl said with sincerity, though he did shoot a glare at Ironhide. 

“This pretty little thing yer secretary?” Ironhide flashed Arcee what he probably thought was a charming smile, and she slowly arched her brows. 

“This is my Lieutenant.” Ultra Magnus said dryly, giving Arcee an apologetic look. “Arcee, Ironhide. Ironhide, Arcee.” 

“Sorry bout that. Yer just about the prettiest bot Ah’ve laid optics on in ages.” Ironhide said sheepishly, giving her a rather roguish grin as they shook hands. “Magnus, tell me there’s a wash rack Ah can use?” 

“Goodness knows he needs it.” Prowl muttered, rolling his optics. “I wish to review any notes you have regarding the trial and the prisoner, Commander.” 

“Of course.” Ultra Magnus nodded, looking at Arcee. “Lieutenant, please take Prowl to my office, I have some data pads set out for the Counselors to read through. No harm in him getting a head start if he wishes it.”

“Of course, sir.” Arcee nodded, gesturing for Prowl to follow her. 

“I am so sorry.” Prowl said as they moved out of earshot, shaking his head. “He has as much tact as a mallet to the face.” 

“It’s alright. I’ve heard worse. From the CMO, as a matter of fact.Though there were extenuating circumstances in that case.” Arcee said with a smirk in return, going up the steps to the office and opening the door. To her surprise, Strika was already inside, and the warframe looked at her in curiosity when she reset her vocalizer. “Acting Councilwoman Strika. This is Councilman Prowl. He’s here to-”

“Look over these?” Strika held up a data pad. “Of course. Myself as well. Councilman, you are welcome to join me.” 

Prowl looked to Arcee, who gave him a hesitant nod. He moved to take the empty seat on the side of the desk closest to the door, picking up a data pad and flicking it on. 

“If that will be all, Counselors?” Arcee said, both of them dismissing her with either a wave or a nod of the head. She closed the door behind her and clenched her hands into fists. 

So Prowl and Strika seemed, at the moment, to be honoring the armistice. Time would tell if the rest of the Counselors would do the same. Ironhide, if the stories dictated correctly, was a bit of a loose cannon and was older than most mechs still around after the war. Cyclonus, while appearing very stoic, had a depressingly impressive kill count and was rumored to have a notoriously foul temper. 

“If there was ever a time I missed Optimus more…” She murmured to herself, moving back down the steps to join Ultra Magnus in the bridge room once more.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like I'm back into the swing of things! Hurray!! My computer died on me and put a damper on my creativity. I hauled my old laptop out of the closet and while it doesn't really do a lot, it works for writing. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter! More will be coming soon!

Arcee refueled with Wheeljack and Smokescreen that night, and she was happy to see that the two of them were getting along. They shared stories from Earth, Wheeljack taking a few jabs at the rookie but nothing that was designed to hurt feelings. 

They laughed. It felt strange thinking that there hadn’t been enough laughter lately. 

Every so often, when she and Smokescreen were talking, Wheeljack would have a distant look in his cyan optics. Arcee realized that he was probably talking to his bondmate, and at first it soured her enjoyment of the moment. 

Arcee wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t blind. She seemed to be one of the few here that thought of Knock Out as ‘guilty until proven miraculously innocent.’ There had to be a better reason for that than just Knock Out’s faction.

She went to see him. It was the first time she had seen him since his arrest. Knock Out was a mess, a wreck, his paint chipped and smudged. He seemed clean, but there was a distinctly lackluster look to his finish. 

“I know.” Knock Out said dramatically when he saw her taking him in. “I’m a monster.” 

“You’ve definitely seen better days.” Arcee remarked, pulling one of the chairs the guards used over and seating herself where she could see him. 

She didn’t belittle him by pretending to care how he was doing. She didn’t ask how he was holding up. For a long moment, she didn’t ask anything at all.

“I would prefer not to be gawked at like a tiger in a cage.” Knock Out said, brows raised. “I mean, even at my worst, I’m gorgeous, but I am happily shackled, Arcee.” 

“I didn’t come here to stare. I came here to talk.” Arcee said with a frown. “It seems… now that I’m here, I’ve forgotten what I wanted to say.” 

“Ah, so I’ve stricken you speechless.” Knock Out leaned against the bars and gave her a wicked smile.

Arcee glared at him, but it wasn’t with the same venom in her gaze as she had leveled on Starscream in the past. 

“Don’t tell me you feel sorry for Silas.” He said, Arcee’s gaze sharpening further. 

“Of course not.” She replied, mouth pulling into a tight line. She looked away from him, her hands slowly balling into fists where they rested on her legs. “After all he did? Of course I don’t feel sorry for him.” She repeated. 

There was silence, and Arcee mulled it over. There was a conclusion to be drawn here. If she didn’t feel sorry for Silas, why was she so angry with Knock Out? Why was she so eager to see him put away forever? 

“Can I ask you a question? A potentially inflammatory one?” Knock Out said, Arcee looking up at him again. “If you had been in my position, wouldn’t you have done the same?” 

Arcee immediately wanted to deny it. Her tank lurched when she realized she couldn’t, really. She thought about all the blind fury, the vengeance she had wanted to exact after first Tailgate was taken from her, then Cliffjumper. All the fights with Airachnid, ignoring orders and commands just for a chance to face her again…

Arcee couldn’t deny that she would have killed Airachnid. But had she been given the chance to torment her, torture her? 

“I probably would have come close. You’re far more patient than I am.” She admitted. Knock Out didn’t play it smug. He looked at her with understanding. 

Arcee felt ill. 

“We all have the potential within us to be monsters. It doesn’t always take a war to bring it to the surface.” Knock Out said, reaching between the bars to flick one of her winglets. “Does Commander Magnus know you’re here?”

“I don’t always have to brief him on what I’m doing and where I’m going.” Arcee said, arching a brow. “I thought it was time I figured out where I stand in this whole scenario. And why.” 

“Hm.” Knock Out straightened, folding his hands behind his back. “I sense it’s story time?” He said, Arcee shrugging one shoulder and settling back in her chair. “Very well then. I will take the floor.” 

He paced the length of his cage, Arcee watching him and almost able to see the thoughts turning over in his head as he pieced together what he was going to say. 

“Do you know why I joined the Decepticons?” Knock Out asked, Arcee straightening slightly in surprise. 

“I always thought it was because you’re an opportunistic bastard.” She said with a slight smirk, Knock Out spreading his hands but not bothering to deny it. 

“Aside from that fact… maybe this would be easier and more believable if I had wings instead of wheel struts.” He let out a rather dramatic sigh. “But I made my choice a long time ago. You see, I never wanted to have a part in any fight, in any battle. I just wanted a quiet clinic somewhere, a place I could use to make people beautiful.” 

“A plastic surgeon? Really?” Arcee snorted. 

“New paint jobs, new faces, upgrades and rebuilds… I wanted to make people better. Not hack them together with parts that had already been hacked off someone else.” Knock Out said, scowling. “But the Functionists wouldn’t have even allowed me that if it hadn’t been for me choosing to become what I am now. You see, I was born a flyer. Born to be a fighter, they said. I had wings and therefore I was destined to be part of a great Seeker Armada!” 

“That doesn’t track.” Arcee said, leaning forward slightly. “If you were a flyer and you gave up your wings… you’d be as crazy as the rest of the Decepticon medics.” 

“One would think so, yes.” Knock Out said, optics wide. “But I wouldn’t have become personal physician to the leader of the Decepticons if I was out of my brain module, my dear. I have always been known for my determination.”

“So your determination overcame ground sickness?” Arcee asked, looking at him skeptically. 

“That and the fact that I prefer the way I look with steel-belted radials.” Knock Out grinned at her and Arcee rolled her optics. “There was a great deal of discomfort at first. Wheel struts don’t afford the same articulation or range of communication as wings do, and my balance isn’t what it used to be. There was also the fact that the Functionists were trying to hunt me down for daring to try and choose my own form.”

“I guess it really shouldn’t come as a surprise at all that you chose to follow Megatron.” Arcee said quietly.

“In the beginning, he was preaching freedom. Freedom of choice, freedom of form… It was everything I wanted.” Knock Out lowered his optics. “The stars, unfortunately, did not align in my favor. I ended up a field medic, saving those I could and butchering the rest for parts. I was good at it. My skills didn’t go unnoticed, but I was slow, they said. Too meticulous, too caught up with the fine details!” 

Arcee shifted uncomfortably and looked away. This wasn’t what she had been expecting. She had been so eager to demonize Knock Out for his faction without having bothered to hear his story. Now that she was hearing it… 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I offend you?” Knock Out asked dryly. “I never took you to be squeamish, Lieutenant.” 

“I’m not.” She said, looking back at him. “You’re just not what I expected. I think I can understand why Wheeljack sticks up for you all the time.” 

“He and I have a surprising amount in common.” Knock Out said, his expression darkening as he looked down at the floor. “They won’t let me see him.” 

“Sorry. Ultra Magnus is big on policy.” Arcee said. She was fidgeting. It didn’t escape Knock Out’s notice. 

“Did you remember what you came here for?” He asked, and Arcee vented slowly. 

“I’m glad that Wheeljack wasn’t too hard on Smokescreen.” She said, avoiding Knock Out’s gaze. “After all… it wasn’t the rookie’s fault.”

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by Knock Out’s claws sliding over one of the cell bars before the medic moved to sit down on his berth. 

“I see.” He said. Arcee’s optics shut and she lowered her head. “How disappointing.” 

 

 

Ultra Magnus called the officers in for an emergency meeting that also included the Counselors. The Commander was attempting to ensure an unbiased outcome to this trial and any subsequent ones that came along down the line. 

It was a result of this attempt that the Commander announced he wouldn’t be serving on the Council. “As the self appointed leader of the entity known as the Autobots, I feel it would be unjust for me to lend my voice to the deciding vote of this jury.” Ultra Magnus said, a few of the Counselor’s exchanging glances. “I have found whom I feel is a suitable replacement. She arrived last night and I believe will do justice to a position on the Council.” 

He gestured and the door at the back opened to admit a tall bot with a pink and white frame. She was flanked by another, slightly smaller bot, this one blue and white and carrying a bouncy air of eagerness about her. 

“Some of you have already met Elita-One. She served alongside Optimus Prime during the early stages of the war and was a personal friend of Orion Pax before that.” Ultra Magnus fairly beamed, greeting Elita with a smile and clasping her shoulders in a friendly manner. 

“Couldn’t think of a better soldier ta take yer place, Magnus.” Ironhide said, moving to embrace Elita and drawing a laugh from her. “Good ta see yer still in one piece.” 

“When have I ever let something like a millions of years long war stop me?” Elita-One said, arching a brow. 

“I have heard tale of your exploits.” Strika said, her field radiating her pleasure. “A shame we never got the chance to face one another in battle, Elita-One. Perhaps later, we can spar so I may see your legendary hand to hand prowess for myself?” 

“If time allows for it, General Strika, I would revel in that opportunity.” Elita and Strika shook hands, and while Strika fairly dwarfed the pink bot, there was no fear in Elita’s field. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought my young friend to this meeting? She’s already shown a great deal of promise for law enforcement. In truth, I really wanted to introduce her to Prowl.” 

“And it is an honor to meet you sir.” The young, blue and white bot clasped Prowl’s hand with both of her own after hastily approaching him. “My name is Strongarm. Are you going to be starting up a detachment here on the planet soon? Now that the refugees are coming in, they’re going to need some guidance, sir.” 

“I, uh… will discuss the matter with Ultra Magnus further when our current business is handled.” Prowl seemed a little overwhelmed by Strongarm’s enthusiasm and Elita-One smirked at him over the younger bot’s shoulder. 

“Oh, of course! Commander Magnus, can I just say it’s also a great honor to meet you and to be given this chance to serve alongside you, sir.” Strongarm beamed, her optics bright. 

“Thank you, Strongarm.” Ultra Magnus nodded at her and her field exploded with delight. “Now, back to the matter at hand. I would like to go ahead with the proceedings tomorrow. Will this give everyone a chance to review the case and get up to speed?”

“Should be enough time.” Elita-One stretched in a leisurely manner. “I hear there oil baths here. I’ll grab a data pad and read it while I indulge in a long overdue soak.” 

After a few more cheerful greetings, the Counselors and officers began to part. Arcee made a point of catching up to Elita before she could leave, the two embracing and Elita giving Arcee a fond smile. 

“I’m happy to see you’re with Magnus.” Elita said quietly. “Though it makes my spark ache knowing why Optimus isn’t here as well.”

“We try every day to honor his sacrifice.” Arcee said in reply. “It hasn’t been easy, but with Ultra Magnus running point, we’ll make it through.” 

“I have no doubt in my mind.” Elita-One glanced over at the Commander, then turned back to Arcee with a smile. “Where’s Cliff? I expected you two to be attached at the hip, especially after all those elated messages you sent me about him.”

Arcee drew her field back against herself, her expression souring before she could stop herself. Elita-One looked at her, then drew her back into an embrace and let her sorrow flow forth. 

“Oh Cee… I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Elita-One murmured, Arcee accepting her gesture of comfort for as long as she could bear before pulling away. 

“It was Starscream. I wish I could say he made it clean and quick.” Arcee said, folding her arms across her chest. “I’ve been working on making peace with it. Throwing myself into the work here has been helping. Not to mention, I have a whole team now instead of just a single partner. It makes it easier to cope.” 

“You’ll have to give me the full round of introductions. Right now, though, I guess I have work to do.” Elita-One gestured to the data pad she held. “Show me where I can clean off a few decades worth of grime?”

“Sure thing. Just follow me.” Arcee said with a laugh. 

 

 

First Aid usually prided himself on his steady hands. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion from constantly working without a chance to properly recharge or refuel, or if it was just his current patient that was causing the trembling that saw him dropping his tools with disturbing frequency. 

After all, Vortex was making a show of interrogating him even if the rotary was the one strapped to the med berth. 

“What a luxury.” Vortex said with a soft ex-vent. “I’m nicely numbed up now, doctor. Free from pain at last.” 

Red optics fixed on First Aid, who steadied the pair of forceps he held and moved to make another attempt at the repair he was doing. 

“You can make it stay that way, can’t you?” Vortex asked. “I was told you knew what you were doing.” 

“Of course. It’s pretty routine.” First Aid said, thankful that his voice wasn’t shaking and was free of static. The repair WAS routine. Aid had been given the distinct displeasure of working on Whirl during the war while running about with the Wreckers. He knew how to fix a bent rotor. At least Vortex wasn’t trying to kill him while he did it.

“Do I make you nervous?” This was asked in such a quiet tone, bordering on playful and definitely wicked, and First Aid cursed when he sent his tool clattering to the floor again with a careless jerk of his hand. Vortex chuckled. 

“Excuse me a moment.” First Aid stepped away from the berth, moving into the small office where they did their paperwork and closing the door. Ratchet, who was inside at the time, looked up in surprise.

“Already finished?” Ratchet asked, the CMO turning almost immediately back to his report. 

“I can’t.” First Aid said, Ratchet looking up again but this time more sharply. “I can’t do this.”

“It’s not even a major surgery.” Ratchet said with a frown, getting to his feet and approaching the trembling mech. “First Aid, what’s wrong?” 

“It’s been getting harder and harder to work. We seem to be surrounded by them, outnumbered.” First Aid was venting shallowly, and Ratchet put a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him. “Ratchet, I can’t keep fixing these Decepticons. I can’t… I can’t do it. They’re going to attack us. I don’t know how to fight, what if they… what if you’re not around and they-”

“First Aid, stop.” Ratchet said firmly, frowning down at the smaller mech. “We have a ceasefire in place. Strika won’t let the Decepticons attack us, ESPECIALLY when we’re the only medics on the planet that can fix them.” 

“But their wounds, their injuries… I know they got them fighting our people.” First Aid protested, voice crackling with static. 

It took most of an hour to calm the younger mech, and by the time Ratchet convinced him to go back out and finish his job, the CMO knew that they couldn’t keep going on like this.

The trial was tomorrow. There were no misgivings in Ratchet’s mind about the decision he had already made. He and First Aid couldn’t do this alone, and even Perceptor and Wheeljack’s help wasn’t making the difference. Since none of the Decepticon’s insane medics had made an appearance, he had two choices. 

Train more medics and stretch their already depleted resources that much more thin, or utilize the very capable medic they already had at the base. The one that was in jail. The one that was facing prosecution the next morning. 

There really was only one choice that made sense. 

 

 

It was an hour so ridiculous that Knock Out refused to even acknowledge it as ‘early’ when RF-2364 and Blackout came to his cell. The former was carrying a bucket full of what looked like detailing supplies while the latter seemed to be there for either moral support or protection.

“We all agreed it would give you better chances if you showed up to court looking your best.” RF-2364 said, field full of pride and triumph. “That is, if you’re interested, sir?” 

Of course Knock Out was interested. He had languished in here, in this state, for weeks now. “Oh please. PLEASE.” He said gratefully. 

“Wheeljack wanted to be here.” Blackout said, making a face. “As it stands, we had to make this seem like a chore before they would agree to send the two of us, yes Otto?” 

“Yessir.” RF-2364 said with amusement, opening the cell and stepping inside. They began preparing their equipment, Knock Out regarding Blackout as he stood outside the cell like a guard dog. 

“Poor brute.” Knock Out said very softly, RF-2364 looking up at him. “Even his glyphs are as rusty as the rest of him. I’m assuming ‘Otto’ is meant to be the short form of ‘Autobot’ and an endearing nickname for you?” 

“Actually no.” RF-2364 offered Knock Out a fine sander, which the medic immediately applied to one of the two deep scratches that was threatening to scar his chest plate. “It’s, uh… my name. I’m Otto.” 

“You have a name?” Knock Out didn’t mean to sound so surprised, and the Vehicon’s field flickered in embarrassment. 

“After the war ended, some of us chose names for ourselves. No use running around being referred to by serial numbers, we thought.” They said, going to work on one of Knock Out’s scuffed shins. “But we were nervous around the officers. We weren’t sure if we were allowed to be anything but our serial numbers.”

“But you told him?” Knock Out jerked a thumb towards Blackout, who was cheerfully chattering away to a couple of mechs Knock Out didn’t recognize that were passing down the row. 

“Blackout has been very kind.” RF-2364 (Otto? Is that what he ought to call them now?) said, continuing to buff his shins. “He never gave us any reason to fear him. He insisted upon a name and that was the one I gave him.” 

The Vehicon actually had considerable skill with a buffer, and a steady hand with which to apply paint. Knock Out let them know this once they were finished. 

“Thank you, sir. I’m honestly a bit of a perfectionist…” They said, field again registering embarrassment. “Like I said before, you saved my life once. I don’t think you’d want to go out in front of all those important mechs looking like you had been in a fight.” 

“My thanks to you for this, Otto.” Knock Out said with a smile. Blackout and the Vehicon moved away, the larger mech letting him know that someone would be by to escort him to the courtroom soon. Knock Out admired his renewed luster with a vent of relief, feeling at home in his own frame for the first time since he got put behind bars. 

_You should see me_. He sent to Wheeljack. _I’m beautiful again._

_You always are, even when you insist you’re not_. Wheeljack said, Knock Out letting out a snort and rolling his optics. _I’m coming to the proceedings. I wanna be there, see if there’s anything at all I can do to help._

_I wish we would be able to see one another under better circumstances. So I could smack you upside the helm for being an insufferable romantic_. Knock Out said, Wheeljack simply sending him a pulse of adoration in return that made him let out a sound of disgust. _And you’re just doing it on purpose._

_Kup and Cee are on their way. See you soon_. Wheeljack said with a laugh. 

This was it. Now or never. Knock Out ex-vented slowly and drew himself up with dignity. He was going to walk in there like he owned the place and he was going to walk out the same way, chains or no chains. 

Having all the ghosts of his past dragged up to meet him again… not exactly how he wanted to spend his day. 

“At least I’ll be in good company.” He said to himself, spying the SIC and the old wardog approaching. 

“Let’s go.” Kup said gruffly as he opened the cell. Arcee put a pair of stasis cuffs on Knock Out’s wrists, giving him a brief, reassuring smile. “You ready, kid?” 

“Ready as I will ever be.” Knock Out shrugged. They led him out of the cell and up the hall.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys. Have this bit, something longer and meatier will be following in the near future.
> 
> Warnings: Robogore! Cannibalism? Creepy fraggers being creepy...

The thing that bothered Flatline the most about Shockwave was how unflappable the scientist seemed to be. Sometimes he wondered how they worked so well together.

When Flatline was starving due to their constant lack of energon, he was cranky and furious and frequently lashed out at anyone within striking distance. Shockwave became quieter than normal (if that was even possible,) working shorter hours but trying to accomplish as much as he could during them.

When the Predacons came to make trouble or demand things of them, Flatline would eventually lose his temper and snap at them because they were invading his work space or making a mess. Shockwave simply ignored them unless they forced a physical confrontation, no matter how many times the younger two shoved their heads between the scientist and his work table.

Other than brief flashes of irritation (all of these due to unavoidable setbacks in their work,) all Shockwave seemed to display was cool, logical indifference. Even in the face of their unwanted ‘guest’ that Shockwave was keeping in the back room until they could figure out what else to do with it, the one eyed mech was collected. 

Flatline wanted to tear out his own audio receptors. He’d rather suffer through the pain of that than have to deal with the shrieking for one more second. It wasn’t even a continual stream, but the shrill assault of a Seeker in a great deal of agony and using the last thread of their shattered processor to let everyone on the fragging planet know was grinding down his last nerve. 

He didn’t know why Shockwave continued to bother. He didn’t know why they continued to waste resources. Every bit of energon they put into the husk that had been left for them by the Predacons was pretty much just being poured down the drain. It wasn’t doing any good, not for any of them. 

The lab was running dangerously low on energon, and while the Predacons were out looking for more to replenish their supplies, Flatline was rationing what little they had left. He found himself reading the same line of Shockwave’s research journal two or three times in a row and set it aside, rubbing his hand over his face.

Things weren’t looking very good. Their last batch of experiments had failed. No progress being made meant they would have to start taking even more desperate measures and Flatline began to worry about his own well being.

There was only so much failure to be had before the chief engineer of the Decepticons began to use whatever he could get his hand on, including his research partner.

There was a noise from the passage just outside the lab, Flatline lifting his head and frowning.

Shockwave also looked up, then turned to Flatline and jerked his head in a silent demand that the black mech go and investigate.

Grumbling, Flatline forced himself to his feet and grabbed a shock prod off his work bench. He couldn’t power his weapons with his reserves being so low, so he had to resort to other means of defending himself.

Shoving the door open, Flatline looked around with optics narrowed. There was movement in the shadows beyond the cave entrance, and for a moment the mech thought it was just the Predacons. They were sure to have returned by now, with fuel in hand.

That hope died when he saw a much smaller figure move into view, a cautious EM field reaching out to brush against his.

“Flatline? Is that you, sir?” A voice called out.

A Vehicon. They’d been found by a Vehicon.

This had all the makings of fortuitous opportunity.

Straightening, Flatline stepped out of the lab and strode towards the smaller mech. “It is. What are you doing here?” He demanded.

“I was looking for shelter, sir.” The Vehicon was trembling, but not out of fear. Probably just as starved as Flatline and Shockwave were. “There’s Swarm about and I saw this cave an-”

“Are you here alone?” Flatline interrupted.

Hesitating, the Vehicon nodded weakly. “I am, sir.”

“Oh thank goodness. You’ve come at an excellent time… you’re just what we need to finally get some sort of progress going here.” Flatline said, moving before the words had finished escaping him. He let his battle mask snap back, the Vehicon spitting a static laced cry of fear as they saw his seldomly revealed face beneath it.

His mouth a mess of jagged fangs, Flatline licked his lips and extended his second pair of arms. He grabbed hold of the Vehicon, slamming their visored face against the cave wall. “I would invite you inside, but Shockwave hates it when I leave a mess all over the floor.” He hissed. “I can’t imagine this will be neat and tidy.”

“W-what are you doing?!” The Vehicon cried, Flatline releasing them and letting them stumble a few feet away. “Sir, stop, please!”

“We’re a little low on supplies.” Flatline said, ignoring the Vehicon’s protests as he seized them with all four arms once more. “Namely energon. And you know what they say, don’t you?”

The Vehicon was struggling, their weak armor crumpling beneath his hands as he gripped them more tightly.

“Waste not, want not.” Flatline rasped, opening his mouth wide and latching onto the Vehicon’s throat.

Metal wrenched and tore. Soft components gave out under the pressure of his strong jaws. Whatever scream escaped them cut off as his fangs tore through their vocalizer and their major lines. Hot, filtered energon filled his mouth and Flatline vented inwards sharply.

It was both worse than he expected and not as terrible as he had feared. The first swallow made his tanks gurgle, then hunger overrode all propriety and Flatline was pulling deep mouthfuls of it with a low moan of regret and disgust. The Vehicon jerked and struggled in his grip, Flatline pulling them tightly to his frame and sinking down with his back against the cave wall.

There was less of it than he had hoped. Enough to take the biting edge off his hunger, but not enough to fill his tank. If he weren’t already doing something so feral and depraved, he might have felt self conscious about the greedy slurping sounds that escaped him or the steady slide of oral lubricant down his chin or the soft, desperate noises he was letting out.

Flatline wouldn’t reduce himself to licking up the trickling remnants of the Vehicon’s life force once he pulled away, so he pushed the near corpse onto the ground unceremoniously and wobbled to his feet. Panting open mouthed, Flatline was surprised he didn’t feel the urge to empty his tanks as he gazed at the swiftly fading shell.

There was still time. He could still extract the spark. It would likely be only part of one, seeing as this was a Vehicon, but part of a spark was better than no spark at all.

As he took a lurching step towards the door to the lab, Flatline spotted Shockwave standing just outside it. Wordlessly, the mech turned his single red optic from the Vehicon to Flatline, holding something out towards him.

“It would have been better to take it alive.” Shockwave said flatly, voice lacking anger or disappointment. “I will send the Predacons out again as soon as they return. Perhaps keeping our reserves better stocked will avoid this sort of mess in the future.” His taloned hand shifted so that the spark extractor he held was more easily accessible. 

“Much obliged. I knew there had to be some reason we work so well together.” Flatline said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and succeeding in smearing energon and oral lubricant over it before reaching to take the spark extraction device from Shockwave.

“A degree of intuitive thinking is only logical. If I could survive working alongside Starscream, it should naturally be easy to work alongside someone more stable such as yourself.” Shockwave said simply. “Bring the corpse inside with you. We can use the parts.” As he turned, the scientist glanced over his shoulder. “And make sure you clean up this mess. We don’t want scavengers to come around.”

“Of course.” Flatline said, kicking the Vehicon onto its back and powering up the spark extractor.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Trial, part one! Thank you all for your patience.

Knock Out met Strika just outside the doors of their makeshift courtroom, the former general looking down at him with a hint of amusement in her field. 

“You look tired.” She said, Knock Out feeling a twinge of irritation and inwardly deflating. “Are you ready?” 

“Please, let’s get this over with.” Knock Out said, lifting his chin slightly.

“That is the goal, yes. I don’t think either of us desire a months long debacle.” Strika said as she gestured to the door. 

The room beyond had been modified only slightly. There was no raised platform on which the Council would sit, just a long row of tables moved together at the front of the room. All of the seats behind the table were full, Knock Out finding several pairs of optics fixed on him as he was escorted to his own chair by Arcee’s hand on his elbow. 

There were a few faces he recognized, but many more that he didn’t. Some he hadn’t seen since early in the war (Cyclonus) and others he thought had perished (was that Skyfire? Where in the world did they find him?)

The Autobots stared at him with curiosity while the Decepticons frowned for one reason or another. A small bot with a great deal of biolights that kept shifting colors touched Skyfire’s hand to draw his attention, leaning up to whisper to the shuttle. 

Prowl and Ironhide, the two Autobots he recognized from the group, were sitting next to one another. The former seemed irritated by something the latter found amusing, turning his optics back in Knock Out’s direction. 

There was a good chance Prowl’s renowned battle systems were analyzing Knock Out, making notes and logging them for later. The Enforcer didn’t have his standard issue sidearm with him, and Knock Out couldn’t help feeling a little grateful about that. He had seen and attempted to fix damage caused by the acid pellets said sidearm fired. Those were some of the nastiest wounds he had encountered in the war. 

Ironhide was also missing his signature weapon, his Cryoblaster, the old warframe leaning back in his chair with his legs crossed comfortably. He looked down at Knock Out’s table and winked, the medic wondering for a moment if it was meant for him. Strika’s muffled snort of amusement next to him proved it wasn’t.

Knock Out was encouraged to sit down, Arcee removing the stasis cuffs and stashing them in her subspace before taking her place next to Kup. Strika sat down next to Knock Out with a near imperceptible creak of struts. 

He made a mental note to talk to her about that when the trial was done. Even in the face of impending permanent incarceration, Knock Out’s medical protocols were online. Focusing on the potential causes for such a noise kept him from panicking. 

The audience was getting bigger. Ratchet was there. Bulkhead and Bumblebee were as well. A group of Vehicons clustered together and had their heads bowed in conversation. Swindle was sitting with Vortex and looked like he was trying to sell the rotary something, as usual. Craning his neck to look across the growing sea of bots, Knock Out frowned. 

Where was his Conjux?

Ultra Magnus entered the room, causing a hush to fall over the crowd. Strika stood, the Counsellors all did the same, and everyone else followed their lead. Knock Out nodded to the Commander as he passed, and at this point there was no amount of fixating on medical problems that could stop his panicking.

“If everyone could please be seated, we can begin.” Ultra Magnus said, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. 

It took a moment for everyone to settle down, Knock Out’s discomfort at the absence of his Conjux deepening as Ultra Magnus read the opening statements. 

_Wheeljack? Where are you?_ He finally asked over the bond while Magnus went on. 

_In the back, KO. I can’t talk. I’m sorry_ … Wheeljack said in response before dimming his side of the bond to the point where Knock Out could barely feel him.

Ex-venting slowly, Knock Out grit his denta and looked up at Ultra Magnus as he began introducing the members of the Council. 

Prowl, Praxian and former Enforcer in Iacon. 

Ironhide, heavy weapons specialist and long time friend of Optimus Prime.

Elita-One, Autobot Special Tactics and Recon specialist, a master of hand to hand combat and a fearsome commander. 

Cyclonus, highly skilled swordsmech and Armada General. 

Onslaught, master tactician and leader of the Combaticons. 

Skyfire, brilliant scientist and engineer and one of the few remaining Shuttleformers, thought lost before the war began. 

Chameleon, the small blinking bot that seemed to be serving as Skyfire’s personal assistant.

Then there was Strika, who was serving as Knock Out’s defense, and Ultra Magnus himself, who was serving as Judge. 

“Knock Out, please stand.” Ultra Magnus said, and as he complied, Knock Out felt more than saw every optic in the room swivel towards him. “You stand accused of the following-”

“Your Honor, if I may?” Strika immediately interrupted, standing as well with a quiet huff. 

“Yes, Acting Councilwoman?” Ultra Magnus’ brows knit ever so slightly as he gazed at her. 

“The defense moves to have the charges changed from Crimes Against Humanity to the lesser charge of Desecration or Improper Disposal of a Corpse.” Strika said, maintaining optic contact. Turning to look at her sharply, Knock Out felt his armor contract and his optics widen.

“It does?” Knock Out whispered 

“On what grounds, Strika?” Ultra Magnus asked. 

“Lack of evidence pointing to the initial charges.” Strika said evenly. 

Pausing for a moment, Ultra Magnus looked towards the Council. He pulled his mouth into a tight line, then looked back at Strika. “There were witness statements-” He began.

“Made while under the influence of a controlled substance and obtained illegally.” Strika said, Knock Out cringing. As much as he himself hated being interrupted, he knew that Ultra Magnus hated it even more.

Optics widening, Ultra Magnus sat back in his chair. He lapsed into thoughtful silence for awhile, then vented slowly. “Council?”

The members of the Council held a short conversation over their comm links. Cyclonus looked irritated, Onslaught looked bored and Skyfire looked hopelessly confused. 

“We’re alright with the change.” Elita-One eventually said, and Ultra Magnus nodded. 

“Very well then. To the lesser charge of Desecration or Improper Disposal of a Corpse, how do you plead, Knock Out?” He asked.

Looking towards Strika, Knock Out tried very hard not to glare. What in the world was she doing? They hadn’t discussed this! 

She inclined her head at him in an expectant manner and Knock Out slowly turned back to face Ultra Magnus. 

“Guilty, Your Honor.” He said with more than enough misgivings. He couldn’t exactly lie to them, could he? That was what he had done, wasn’t it?

“Very well.” Ultra Magnus sounded unimpressed. The Counsellors were wearing expressions of varying degrees of the same emotion. “The floor is yours, Acting Councilwoman Strika.”

Knock Out sat down again, feeling incredibly numb, and Strika picked up her data pad. 

“I would like to begin immediately by calling my first witness.” She said. “Smokescreen, if you would please come before the Council?”

By the time Strika was done grilling Smokescreen about the circumstances surrounding his ‘statement’ about the crime Knock Out had initially been charged with, there was no question why she had been one of Megatron’s most celebrated commanders.

Looking like he wanted to crawl under the table he sat at, Smokescreen was forced to recount his experience aboard the Nemesis that had caused Ultra Magnus to order Knock Out’s arrest.

Admittedly, Strika was right about there being a lack of evidence. Smokescreen confirmed that he hadn’t actually seen anything, he’d only heard it. There was no video footage from the med bay because Knock Out had an iota of respect for his patient’s privacy. 

“I’m confused.” Elita-One said once Smokescreen was finished. “This very much sounds like Knock Out was torturing this Silas person.”

“And it sounds as if the incident described was neither the first nor the last time this occurred.” Chameleon commented with a frown. “I, personally, wouldn’t have agreed to the lesser charge if we had known about this before.” 

“Allow me to continue.” Strika said. “I will present for the Council’s viewing a signed and official death certificate for the human known as Silas. His real name was Leland Bishop, as the document states, and he was legally declared dead before the incident in question.”

“Just because he was legally declared dead doesn’t mean he was actually dead.” Prowl argued, glancing at the document as it came up on the data pad in front of him. 

“Semantics.” Onslaught said. 

“Legally declared means legally dead.” Cyclonus said simply. He was sitting back in his seat with his arms folded and didn’t even bother picking up the data pad. Even from here, Knock Out could feel the irritation in the aerial’s field.

“Obviously there’s a difference in opinion on the matter.” Ultra Magnus said before an argument could break out. “Acting Councilwoman Strika is presenting us with clear evidence that the human in question was legally declared dead before the incident in question occurred. Does the Council accept this evidence as viable?” 

“The document is legitimate.” Prowl said with a short and irritated ex-vent. 

“And the only other ‘evidence’ we have been presented with thus far is the word of a very young ex-Elite Guard who was inebriated at the moment of his initial confession.” Cyclonus said. 

After another brief conversation over the comm, the Council ruled in favor and the trial continued. Strika’s field where it touched Knock Out’s in their close proximity felt decidedly smug.

“I would like for Knock Out to be the next witness to take the stand.” Strika said, looking down at him. Knock Out frowned in response but stood at Arcee’s prompting and moved to the desk that was serving at the witness stand. “When you committed the crimes of which you are being charged today, the Cybertronian frame that Silas used as a means of life support belonged to a mechanism that was also declared dead. Is this true?” 

Knock Out clenched his hands into fists slowly. “Yes, this is true.” He said, managing to keep his voice level. 

“Can you please share with the Council how you know this for sure?” Strika asked, arching a brow at him.

Knock Out glanced up at the Counsellors, meeting several pairs of curious optics. “I was bonded to the mech whose frame Silas stole. I can confirm that he was dead long before Silas showed up wearing Breakdown like an ill fitting suit.” He said. If he hadn’t already come to terms with Breakdown’s fate, this would have been much harder. Still, he disliked being put on the spot, being stripped of his defenses this way. This was yet another facet of this trial that he and Strika hadn’t discussed.

“Would you say that seeing Silas so blatantly disrespecting your bonded’s frame that way incensed you?” Strika continued, Knock Out looking up at her and ex-venting slowly.

“Of course it did.” He said, claws trembling as he placed his hands palm flat on the surface before him. “Especially since he tried to earn himself a place within the Decepticon ranks only to fail spectacularly.” 

Ironhide leaned over and muttered something to Prowl, who gave a disapproving scoff and flicked his door wings up in offense. Ultra Magnus loudly reset his vocalizer and the two fell silent again.

“Thank you Knock Out.” Strika said quietly. “Can you explain, please, how you ended up in possession of your bonded’s body?” 

“Lord Megatron told me to take it. Seeing as Breakdown was my bonded, it was my right, so I did as I was told.” Knock Out said, hoping he wasn’t called upon to elaborate. The Counsellors were wearing varying expressions of disgust and horror, but no one asked him for details. Chameleon’s biolights flickered green, her mouth pulling into a tight line. Ironhide looked unsurprised. Behind Strika, Kup looked rather pained, the old mech shaking his helm ever so slightly.

“No further questions.” Strika said, but as Knock Out stood to be escorted back to his table, Elita-One leaned out and waved a hand towards Ultra Magnus. 

“Your Honor?” She said. “While I agree there’s no evidence of torture other than Smokescreen’s word, I did come across some video footage from the Nemesis’ security cameras that I’d like to ask Knock Out about.” 

Knock Out looked at the Autobot with his mouth pulled into a thin, anxious line. 

“You ‘came across’ footage?” Strika asked dubiously. “How was it obtained?”

“I asked a few of the Vehicons stationed on the Nemesis if they knew anything about the situation in question. I felt that the data pads provided didn’t tell the whole story. One of the Vehicons gave the footage to me saying that it might be of interest to the Council.” Elita-One said, leaning back. 

“And why did you not bring this to the attention of the Council?” Strika narrowed her optics slightly and Knock Out drew in a slow vent. 

“I did. Just now.” Elita-One arched a brow at the warframe. “Your Honor?”

“I will allow it only if it is pertinent to the trial.” Ultra Magnus said in a tight tone of voice. 

“It is.” Elita-One assured, using her data pad to queue the video footage up on the projection screen on the wall. “There’s no sound. That’s why I was hoping to ask Knock Out about what exactly is going on here.” 

There were several shots of Breakdown’s frame lumbering down a hallway, his steps halting and exaggerated. Knock Out felt cold terror move through him, sinking down in his seat as he watched. 

Another shot showed Breakdown’s frame attacking a Vehicon and lumbering away, followed by Starscream and Knock Out coming round the corner to find the Vehicon’s body. 

“Oh frag.” Knock Out breathed, putting a hand to his face. This couldn’t be happening.

Now the Vehicon was chasing he and Starscream up the hallway and Knock Out swore he heard people trying not to laugh. Lowering his hand from his face, he looked at the Counsellors. Most of them were watching the video still but Ironhide was looking at him and very obviously grinning. 

“So… what are we looking at?” Elita-One asked, a clear edge of amusement in her voice. 

“I had been using Breakdown’s corpse to test an incomplete formula for synthetic energon.” Knock Out said. “Upon discovering this, Starscream decided we should experiment further by applying a dose of Dark Energon to the corpse as well. The result was a reanimated Terrorcon that rampaged through the Nemesis and fed on the troops before ultimately expiring at the hands of Airachnid.”

“And the… tests. They were part of the whole ‘desecration of a corpse’ thing, yes?”

“Yes.” Knock Out grit his denta briefly. 

“Why did you use the corpse of your lover as a test subject?” Chameleon’s tone was disgusted. 

“It was safer to use a corpse, especially a reanimated one, than it was to use a Vehicon. If something had gone wrong, I would have been punished for compromising the army.” Knock Out said. 

“Which happened regardless.” Elita-One observed, turning the looping images on the projection screen off. “What was the punishment for that mess, anyway?”

“I was removed from the synthetic energon project and had to transfer all my samples and research to Shockwave.” Knock Out didn’t bother straightening. The urge to disappear into the floor was too great. “It eventually led to the rekindling of Cybertron.” 

“Thank goodness fer happy accidents.” Ironhide said in amusement. “An’ Wrecker incendiaries.”

“We’re getting off topic.” Ultra Magnus said. 

“I’ve got no further questions.” Elita-One observed Knock Out, who was taken back to his seat next to Strika.

As he sat down, Knock Out tried reaching through the bond to Wheeljack, but found that the other side of it was blocked. Irritation was bleeding into his field and he didn’t care to try and rein it in.

“I’m calling a short recess while we prepare to continue.” Ultra Magnus stood, the makeshift courtroom filling with voices as people got up and began to stretch and move about. 

“We certainly could have done without that last part.” Strika said with a slow ex-vent, looking down at Knock Out. “Good job, though. The bit about rekindling Cybertron was a nice touch.”

“Why are you trying to martyr me?” Knock Out asked, perhaps a touch too loudly seeing as several people passing by looked at him in surprise. “There aren’t many bots in this base that like me enough to give a damn if I go to jail for the rest of my life.” 

“The ends justify the means, Knock Out. Be patient. Despite the speed bump with the security footage, things are going exactly as they need to.” Strika assured him. “Go refuel and take a walk around. I need to get a few things ready.”

“Like what, exactly?” Knock Out asked, standing and watching as Arcee moved to join him again. She brought out the stasis cuffs, the red grounder hesitating slightly before holding his hands out to her. A walk, even an escorted one, might make him feel better than staying here where he might be tempted to make poor life decisions.

“My next witnesses require some assistance in taking the stand, but I already spoke with Councilman Skyfire about providing it.” Strika said once Knock Out was cuffed. He could hear Arcee draw in a slow ventilation. “You honestly have nothing to worry about.”

“I suppose we’ll just see about that.” Knock Out muttered, moving towards the door of the courtroom. “I want to see my bondmate.” 

“Wheeljack’s a witness. You can’t see him until the trial is over.” Arcee said, Knock Out stopping short and staring down at her in disbelief. “He never told you?”

“No.” Knock Out looked away, optics lowering and spark giving an uncomfortable lurch. “No, he didn’t.”

 

 

When the trial recommenced, Strika turned on the projector screen, asking the court and Council to be patient while everything was set up.

After a long moment, the viewscreen began projecting what appeared to be Skyfire’s altmode interior, and a familiar human woman sitting in what equated to the pilot’s seat. Knock Out stared in shock at the screen, claws tightening on the table top.

He couldn’t remember her name for the life of him, but he knew that human well. 

“Can you hear me? Is this thing on?” She said, fidgeting in her seat a little. 

“We can hear you. May I present to the Council June Darby, one of the humans that fell under the care of ‘Team Prime’ during their stay on Earth.” Strika said with a smile in her voice. “Mrs. Darby-”

“It’s Miss, actually.” June tucked her hair behind her ear and folded her hands nervously in her lap. 

“Of course. My apologies. Miss Darby, could you please tell the Council how you know the defendant?” Strika requested. 

“We met on Earth. He kidnapped me. Myself and my companion, William Fowler.” June’s voice was disapproving and Knock Out fought the urge to groan and put a hand over his face. What exactly was Strika hoping to achieve by utterly humiliating him?

It seemed that Elita-One felt the same way, if her bewildered stare in Strika’s direction was any indication. 

“And during this kidnapping, did Knock Out harm you in any way?” Strika asked. 

“Not really, no.” June Darby said, Knock Out looking up at the screen in surprise. “He threatened us, he frightened us, and he locked us in his trunk and went for quite the joy ride, but he didn’t hurt us.” 

“And can you tell the Council how you knew Silas?” Strika pressed on. 

“Silas also kidnapped me. Held me hostage. Used me as bait to draw my son Jack into a Decepticon trap.” June shuddered visibly. “He stole parts from various bots and made a replica of Optimus Prime that he then used to try and run William off the road.”

“Miss Darby, you disclosed that on another occasion, Knock Out also kidnapped your son and his friends?” Strika said, Knock Out’s spark lurching behind his chest plates. 

“That is correct. He and the other Decepticons used the children as bargaining chips during a confrontation on Cybertron. Before its restoration.” June frowned a little. “But he didn’t hurt them either. As far as I know, Knock Out never lay a hand on any of the humans. Threatened, yes, but never harmed… which isn’t what I can say about the other Decepticons that took humans into captivity on Earth! Like Starscream, who tortured William with an energon prod! And Airachnid, who strung me up, used me as bait to draw in my son Jack and then tried to kill us both!” She leaned forward, her face growing larger on the viewscreen. “Where are those two? How come you’re not putting them on trial? They’re far guiltier than Knock Out. Besides, I heard that Optimus himself pardoned Knock Out for helping you all get your planet back! Doesn’t that count for something?”

“If we could please stay on topic?” Ultra Magnus asked in a soft voice. 

“Thank you, Miss Darby. If you could direct your son, Jack Darby, to come forward and speak to the Council?” Strika said, Knock Out briefly pondering how in the world she had managed to make contact with the humans in the first place. As far as he knew, Strika had never been on Earth.

Jack was older than he remembered. No less tiny and fragile, but older. The human sat down in the chair that his mother had vacated and cleared his throat nervously. 

Strika questioned him as she had his mother. Jack answered with just as much anger. The consensus was the same… Knock Out had taken them but hadn’t hurt them. Knock Out had threatened them but hadn’t hurt them. 

“He’s an ass, but he’s pretty harmless.” Jack concluded. 

“Well, we hardly ever encountered him and when we did he usually ran away once the Autobots showed up.” Raf said during his interview, adjusting his glasses.

“Doc Knock’s a pussy.” Miko said with a roll of her eyes and her arms folded across her chest. “Sometimes. I mean, I did see him fighting Optimus a few times, and that’s pretty badass. But get more than one enemy on the field at a time? Scratch his paint? Insult his stupid face? He runs away crying.” 

“Thank you. No further questions.” Strika said, voice wobbling slightly as if she were trying to hold back a laugh. Ironhide was snickering and even Cyclonus looked like he was having trouble keeping a straight face. They waited until Skyfire returned to the room, then Strika spoke again. “My next witness is Rung, who did a full psychiatric assessment of Knock Out.” 

Knock Out couldn’t help scowling as the small, unassuming mech made his way out of the back and sat down at the desk. Rung adjusted his glasses and cleared his vocalizer, waiting politely for Strika to begin her line of questioning. 

She had him discuss his assessment and notes, Knock Out’s scowl only growing deeper. He didn’t like having his processor picked apart by anyone, least of all a scrawny Autobot. 

“Would you say Knock Out had just cause for his actions against Silas?” Strika asked, folding her hands behind her back and looking down at the much smaller mech.

“Given that this ‘Silas’ had inflicted repeated assaults against Knock Out’s late bonded, and the stresses of dealing with an increasingly insane leader who expected a certain level of brutality from his followers, I would say that the defendant’s actions weren’t entirely surprising.” Rung said, steepling his fingers. “Knock Out’s torture was excessive but, given the circumstances, entirely understandable and justified.” 

“Thank you. No further questions.” Strika said, looking up at Ultra Magnus.

“I am calling a brief recess before we continue. Acting Councilwoman, may I have a word?” Ultra Magnus said, getting to his feet. 

“Of course, Your Honor.” Strika replied, following him from the room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, it was a long time in coming.

The last person Ultra Magnus had expected to barge in on a private meeting was Wheeljack, who pushed through the door without even knocking and demanded to speak to him. Not just to him, though, the Wrecker demanded to speak to the entire Council. 

“I’ve got something here they’ll want to see. It’s important, sir.” The grim expression on Wheeljack’s face, his scarred mouth twisted and his brows furrowed, added gravity to his statement. “I wouldn’t be doin’ this if it weren’t. You know that.” 

“You should have waited for me to finish speaking to the Acting Councilwoman, Wheeljack.” Ultra Magnus admonished. “And you should have knocked first.” 

“I would have, but after watching the slag show out there and this heap of junk here draggin’ my bonded’s name through the mud more than it already has been, I didn’t feel like waiting.” Wheeljack glanced at Strika as he spoke, the warframe towering over him. “This is important.” 

“Please mind your tone and your choice of words, Wheeljack. If you want to be taken seriously, you won’t call Strika or any of the other Counsellors names.” Ultra Magnus’ mouth was pulled into a thin line and he narrowed his optics. 

“I rather admire his passionate way of speaking. And I’ve been called worse, Commander.” Strika said with genuine amusement. 

“I advise against encouraging him. He was a Wrecker-” Ultra Magnus began, turning to Strika.

“It’s the Wreckers I’m here to talk to you about.” Wheeljack interrupted, receiving a sharp look from the Commander. “I have something the Council needs to see.” 

Before Ultra Magnus could respond, the door opened again to admit Ratchet, the medic’s brows knit and his mouth pulled into a tight line. “I need to speak to you.” He said to the Commander without waiting to be acknowledged. 

Strika looked from Ratchet to Wheeljack to Ultra Magnus, then seated herself in the chair behind the Commander’s desk. “Don’t mind me.” She said to Ratchet, who spared her a glance before turning his attention back to Ultra Magnus. 

“One person at a time.” Ultra Magnus said, gritting his denta and ex-venting. “Wheeljack was here first, so I will listen to him first.” 

“I will make this short.” Ratchet pressed on, Wheeljack scowling at the medic. “I need Knock Out. We’re understaffed and First Aid is afraid to treat the Decepticons.” 

“Why would he be afraid to treat the Decepticons? Have they been misbehaving?” Strika asked blandly, arching a brow. 

“The war was a long one and First Aid is young. All he remembers is the fighting. As a result, he’s concerned that by treating the returning Decepticons, he’s giving them another chance to become aggressors.” Ratchet explained. “I need Knock Out. All his past deeds aside, he’s a damn good medic and I need him.” 

Wheeljack’s field brushed against Ratchet’s in appreciation, though the ambulance ignored him and didn’t bother returning the gesture. 

“Is this some sort of poorly orchestrated tag-team?” Ultra Magnus asked in a short tone, Ratchet scoffing and shaking his helm.

“Was this not enough of an impassioned plea for your liking? I could shout if it would make it more sincere.” The look on Ratchet’s face made Ultra Magnus frown. “Either you let me keep Knock Out in the med bay here, or you find some other way for me to find the time to train new medics that aren’t going to break down in a panic when a ‘Con decides to get snarky with them.” 

“I believe this is the point where I’m supposed to object?” Strika asked, looking at Ultra Magnus as well. “This really feels like a blatant attempt to sway the opinion of the judge.”

Surprisingly, Wheeljack hung to the back of the room, his digits tapping in agitation and his scarred mouth twisted. He was silent, watching what was happening and showing patience that Ultra Magnus hadn’t thought him capable of. 

“Ratchet, I will take your request into consideration. The trial isn’t over yet.” Ultra Magnus said, his attention turning to Wheeljack. “What was it you needed to show the Council, Wheeljack?” 

“You’ll see when the rest of the Council does, sir.” Wheeljack said in response, Ultra Magnus having to bring his EM field in tightly to keep his irritation and rising anger from being felt.

“Is it even relevant to the trial?” He asked the former Wrecker. 

“It’s more relevant than the trumped up charges that were laid against my Conjux.” Wheeljack ground out, narrowing his optics. “More relevant and worthy of the Council’s time than a body snatchin’ torturer gettin’ what was comin’ to him.” 

“No one is above the law, Wrecker.” Strika said, outwardly calm.

“That’s right. And that’s the point I’m tryin’ to make.” Wheeljack held up a data slug. “That’s why the Council needs to see what I’ve got here.” 

 

“What in the name of Primus happened to your vocalizer?” Knock Out didn’t mean for his question to come out as harshly as it did, but he was beyond annoyed. He was back in his stupid jail cell, waiting for the Council to finish having a discussion about something that apparently had nothing to do with him. 

The growl that erupted from LD-4427’s throat would have been more menacing if it weren’t a few octaves too high. “My stupid brother thought it would be funny to play a prank on me.” They said in a squeaky voice, LD-4426 letting out a snicker from across the guard’s table where he sat. “And now he won’t fix it!”

“You’re the one who said you wanted to ‘sound more like Arcee.’ I just saw an opportunity and seized it.” LD-4426 said jovially. 

“Does this sound even remotely like Arcee?” LD-4427 snapped. “I sound like… I sound like a scraplette!” 

“You’re adorable, sister.” 

“I am not! Doctor, can’t you tell him to fix it?” 

“Don’t whine at the Doctor.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do! I’m bigger than you!” 

As the twins bickered, Knock Out let his forehelm thunk against the bars and sighed heavily. He wanted to get out of here. He needed to get out of here. If he had to spend even one more day in this cell, he was going to go crazy. He wanted to transform, to drive fast, he wanted to see Wheeljack. 

Most of all, he didn’t want people looking at him like this. Like he was a criminal. He could handle them looking at him like he was a Decepticon, because he had been doing that almost all his life, but he couldn’t handle them staring at him like he was a monster and had done something wrong. Their lip plates curled in disgust, their nasal ridges wrinkled, their brows furrowed, they stared at him with hatred. They didn’t see his beautiful exterior, just the awful deeds he was being accused of.

Even after he had said what he needed to in regards to Silas, they still stared at him. 

“What are you two even doing?” Otto’s voice demanded, breaking Knock Out from his sullen thoughts. “Oh for goodness sakes… LD-4427, come here.” 

Moving to their side obediently, LD-4427 allowed Otto to access her vocalizer through the panel on the front of her neck. With a few rather effortless motions of their claws, Otto reset the other Vehicon’s voice modulation, adjusting it to a less high pitched degree and ex-venting in irritation. 

“You two are ridiculous.” They muttered, closing the access panel and stepping back. “There, is that better?” 

“Still a little higher than I wanted, but it’s better than sounding like a scraplette.” LD-4427 remarked, giving Otto a brief and rather awkward hug in thanks. 

They were once again joined by Blackout, who handed Knock Out his afternoon ration with a slight incline of his helm. 

“General Strika says that court will re...convene? Very soon.” Blackout said hesitantly, his optics narrowing. “I have faith that she will see you are released from your prison.” 

“You’re not really supposed to say things like that.” LD-4426 said, ruffling his armor in agitation. “But with your processor being so scrambled, I guess you wouldn’t know any better.”

“Brother! Rude!” LD-4427 hissed.

“There is no harm in giving him a little hope.” Blackout said. 

“I will take all the hope I can get.” Knock Out muttered, tipping the ration down his intake and letting his mouth turn down. 

 

When he was escorted back into the makeshift courtroom, Knock Out saw that it was just him, Ratchet, his guards and the Council. No observers, no witnesses. 

That made him feel far more nervous than the crowd had. 

“The Council has reached a decision.” Ultra Magnus said when he entered, not even bothering to urge them to sit down after they stood in response to his entrance. 

Strika drew herself up next to him, Knock Out feeling like his fuel pump was trying to work its way out of his frame and his spark was about to beat out of his chest. 

“After an admittedly brief conference, the Council and the judge have chosen to release Knock Out into the custody of Chief Medical Officer Ratchet. Knock Out will remain in service to and on parole under the CMO’s supervision.” It was Skyfire who delivered this verdict, relief warring with indignation in Knock Out’s processor. “The decision was made based on the woefully understaffed medical bay being crowded with returning Cybertronians, but let the defendant be aware that he will remain on parole until the Council has time to revisit his case.” 

Strika turned her head to look down at Knock Out, and the mech nodded at her. He didn’t think it was fair that while he would be free to continue doing what he did best, he would have to do it with Ratchet breathing down the back of his neck. 

Still, it was better than the jail cell. 

“You are not to leave the base without a guard. While you are on duty, you will be assigned an apprentice that you will train to assist you in your work.” Ultra Magnus said, looking down at him sternly. 

The only person Knock Out had ever trained was Breakdown, and he had only done that because he had promised Megatron the big mech would be useful. Mouth pressing into a tight line, Knock Out nodded at the Commander none the less. 

“When you and Ratchet feel your apprentice has been trained to the point where they can work on their own, you will be given another one to train. This will continue until CMO Ratchet feels the medical bay is properly staffed, at which time you will be released from your services.” Ultra Magnus continued grimly. 

That wasn’t at all fair, but Knock Out wasn’t in the position to argue right now. Strika was, however, and she drew herself up to her full and very impressive height.

“When you say that my client will be ‘released from his services,’ do you mean to say he will no longer be on parole, or that he will no longer be required to provide his considerable medical expertise to the populace?” She asked in a terse tone. 

“We will have plenty of time to ponder that considering the whole ‘woefully understaffed’ aspect of the med bay as it is now.” Ratchet replied before Ultra Magnus could, the stocky mech folding his arms across his chassis.

“I am implying that he will no longer be employed in an official capacity under my command. He is free to practice medicine elsewhere if he wishes, he can even reapply to continue serving here, but that hinges on whether or not he breaks his parole in the meantime.” Ultra Magnus cast a rather hard look in Ratchet’s direction before looking back at Strika. 

“And what are the conditions of his parole?” She asked the Commander, who picked up a datapad. 

“The conditions are as follows.” Ultra Magnus said. “Knock Out is not to have contact with the remaining members of Decepticon command. That means the likes of Starscream, Shockwave, Soundwave or Megatron himself.” 

“Considering none of them have been seen since the war ended, I’m not sure that will be an issue.” Knock Out muttered, Strika giving him a sharp look.

“Knock Out is not to have contact with humans without supervision.” Ultra Magnus pressed a finger to the data pad and scrolled through it. “Knock Out is to account for his whereabouts at all times and will be required to have a tracker to installed-”

“Surely his bonded will be able to keep track of him without him having to be monitored like this. It’s an invasion of privacy.” Strika interrupted. 

“If Wheeljack was still part of the command staff then I would agree with you, Strika. Seeing as he’s been demoted, that’s no longer a viable option. Because of this, Knock Out will be fit with a tracker.” Ultra Magnus’ patience must have been fraying. He didn’t usually snap like this. 

“Demoted?” Knock Out asked with a frown. “Is this a ‘guilty by association’ sort of thing?” 

“No. It has nothing to do with you.” Ultra Magnus informed him. “Knock Out is not to perform any invasive surgeries or use any experimental procedures on anyone without permission or supervision. Breaking any of the conditions of his parole unless it is absolutely unavoidable will result in termination of his position as medical officer and immediate incarceration. Do you agree to these conditions?” 

Looking up at Ultra Magnus, Knock Out took in a deep vent and nodded. “I will do my utmost best to uphold them, Your Honor.” He said, keeping his usual flippant tone out of his vocalizer and meeting Ultra Magnus’ optics in a steady manner. 

“In that case, this trial is over. You are free to go, Knock Out, but you should go to the med bay with Ratchet to have your tracker installed immediately.” Ultra Magnus shut off his data pad and stepped out from behind his desk. 

Before Knock Out could say anything, Strika lay a heavy hand on his shoulder and nodded at Ultra Magnus. Her grip was firm and conveyed to him that he needed to hold his glossa. She held onto him until Ultra Magnus left, then used slight pressure to guide him to where Ratchet was standing. 

The other members of the Council got up from their seats, Bulkhead, Kup and Arcee entered and Strika let out a very soft sigh.

“Thank you for keeping my cell warm for me.” She said to Knock Out, who looked at her in surprise. “Now that this is over, I have my end of a bargain to uphold. Don’t worry about me, though. I have everything under control.” 

“What are you talking about?” Knock Out asked. 

“It’s all part of the armistice. In pursuit of peace, myself and the other Decepticon generals have forfeited our freedom so that the other Decepticons don’t have to.” Strika said dryly, releasing her hold on Knock Out as they joined Ratchet. “Doctor.” She said, inclining her head politely. 

“General.” Ratchet replied, giving Knock Out a guarded look. “Well, that could have gone worse.” 

“Why was Wheeljack demoted?” Knock Out demanded, Ratchet letting out a digusted ex-vent.

“Because he’s a self destructive idiot. He’ll tell you himself once I’m done with you. Come on.” Ratchet didn’t take his arm, but he exuded the sense from his field that Knock Out ought to move before he was forced to move.

As he moved to the door, Knock Out watched as Strika held her hands out towards Arcee, willingly allowing the Second in Command to place her in stasis cuffs. 

“She’ll be fine. It’s yourself you need to worry about.” Ratchet said gruffly, Knock Out looking over his shoulder at the CMO. “Now you listen to me very carefully… I put my neck on the line for you. If you do anything to break the fragile trust I have managed to grant you in the optics of Ultra Magnus, I will make sure you never see the outside of a jail cell again.” 

“I don’t appreciate being threatened, Ratchet.” Knock Out said in a level voice. “That is incredibly rude of you.” 

“Try for some gratitude. They would have just thrown you back in jail and let you stay there if I hadn’t fought for your release. They have more important things to worry about than this farce of a trial now, thanks to your boulder-headed Conjux.” Ratchet growled. 

The rest of the trip back to the med bay was quiet and tense, with bots in the halls moving out of the way and stopping to gawk at them. 

“Who are these ‘apprentices’ I’m to be training, anyway?” Knock Out asked as he was escorted into the med bay proper. First Aid was there, and the young mech’s optics lit up with glee upon seeing him. 

Knock Out had the strangest and most sudden urge to cry. 

“You’ll meet them soon enough.” Was all Ratchet said in reply to his question.

“Congratulations.” First Aid said, moving towards them both. He was holding a small dish in one hand that he gave to Ratchet. “I know it’s not much of a victory, Knock Out, but it’ll work out in the end. We need you… they’ll see that.” 

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” Knock Out said honestly, glancing at the thing Ratchet was now picking up with tweezers. “Is this going to hurt?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ratchet snapped. “Lean forward.” 

“I’m not at all comfortable with this, for your information.” Knock Out flared his armor aggressively and bared his denta, but he still sat down on a stool and leaned forward a little so Ratchet had access to the back of his neck. 

“Neither am I.” First Aid admitted. 

“It’s either this or prison. Once this chip is in, it’s out of our hands.” Ratchet said, voice low as he concentrated. “It’ll be up to the comm. officers to keep track of you.” 

Maybe that wasn’t so bad. Knock Out had made friends in a way with some of those guys. The twins worked the comm. and so did that inventor that kept hurting themselves doing things they shouldn’t.

There was a command prompt that popped up on Knock Out’s HUD, and after a slight hesitation, he accepted it. He didn’t feel anything different, but the protoflesh on the back of his neck crawled with the knowledge that now the Commander and the other officers could keep track of him no matter where he was.

“This doesn’t feel very Autobot of the Commander.” Knock Out muttered, feeling First Aid’s field brush against his own in support while Ratchet’s was just prickly with agitation. 

“I wish I could disagree, but desperate times call for desperate-” Ratchet stopped in mid-sentence and straightened sharply. His field contracted, a cold sense of fear falling over him, and Knock Out looked at him in alarm. “You need to leave. Now.” 

“But I just got here.” Knock Out said with indignation. “Is there no end to your rudeness today, Ratchet?” 

“You need to leave or you’re going to break your parole the same day it started.” Ratchet grit his denta, his optics overbright with panic. “Go to your hab suite. Wait, you can’t do that, just… Call your Conjux to come retrieve you! Now!” 

“What’s going on, Ratchet?” First Aid asked in a small voice. 

The door to the med bay opened to admit a rather panicked looking Bumblebee and a confused Smokescreen, the former moving immediately to Knock Out’s side. 

“I’m really sorry about this, but we’ve got to take you out of here.” He said, Knock Out planting himself firmly and putting a hand on his hip. 

“I’m not going anywhere until I’m told what’s going on!” He declared. 

“Move him over there, please.” Ratchet said, and when Bumblebee took Knock Out’s arm in one hand and tugged at him, the Aston Martin allowed the smaller mech to pull him aside. “Aid, get me three bags of medi-grade and a spark stabilizer. Then clear that slab there.” 

“The one with the restraints?” First Aid’s optics widened behind his visor, but he didn’t wait for Ratchet to respond before he was moving to do as he was told. 

Looking down at Bee, Knock Out scowled, his field demanding. 

“Let’s hope that the Commander meant physical contact when he was reading out the conditions of your parole.” Bumblebee said, glancing up at him. 

The door opened again, this time admitting SR-7538 and their incredibly overwhelming EM field that they were doing nothing to rein in. Behind them was another pair of Vehicons pushing a gurney. 

Knock Out felt a shiver move through him from the top of his head down to his pedes. He stared in disbelief at the figure lying on the gurney, immobile and giving off barely a hint of life signs, taking another few steps back until his wheels connected with the wall. Bumblebee mirrored his actions, and an unnatural hush fell over the medical bay.

Now Knock Out understood just why Ratchet had been trying to get him out of here. And he wished he had left when he was told to. 

_Wheeljack_. He said over his bond, feeling his Conjux Endura respond almost immediately in a wordless manner. _You need to come escort me back to our hab suite. I have to get out of here. Now._

_What’s goin’ on?_ Wheeljack asked in a concerned tone. 

“Put him here please.” Ratchet said in a low voice, and the Vehicons shifted the frame from the gurney onto the slab. “Restraints on. Give me the spark stabilizer. Aid, get that energon into him now.” 

“Are you sure?” First Aid asked. 

“Yes! It doesn’t matter who he is, we need to treat him now before he dies!” Ratchet snapped, and First Aid launched into motion. 

“I swear to Primus, I didn’t do this on purpose. Please don’t arrest me. Please don’t kill me.” SR-7538 whimpered. “I kept getting messages, I just thought it was a system glitch or something but in the pursuit of science, I-” 

“Stop talking. Get them out of here.” Ratchet said sternly, looking across the room. “And get him out of here too!” He shouted, pointing at Knock Out.

“What happened to him?” Knock Out asked. 

“I have no idea. And it doesn’t concern you!” Ratchet said, turning his attention fully to the figure on his slab. 

“Of course it concerns me!” Knock Out cried. “I’m a medic too!” 

Wheeljack burst in, stopping short just inside the doorway. He spat a curse, then moved to Bumblebee and Knock Out. His hand took one of Knock Out’s, their fingers twining easily, then the sports model was being pulled from the room. 

Looking back over his shoulder, Knock Out gazed with worry at the barely venting, slender purple and black frame, his optics lingering on a darkened visor before the door closed behind him and blocked Ratchet, First Aid and a near lifeless Soundwave from sight.


	15. Chapter 15

They didn’t stop until they reached their hab suite, digit still entwined, fields pulled back so they didn’t alarm anyone they passed in the hall. Wheeljack jabbed the number pad outside the door and tugged Knock Out inside, turning almost immediately to wrap his Conjux in a firm hug. 

His happiness to finally be able to be held by his bonded warring with fear, uncertainty and irritation, Knock Out didn’t allow the embrace last too long before pushing away to look Wheeljack in the optics. 

“You were demoted.” He said. “What did you do?” 

“Gave ‘em something else to worry about.” Wheeljack said in response, leaning in to steal a kiss. Knock Out allowed it simply because he had missed Wheeljack so much since this whole mess began, but he wasn’t going to let it distract him from getting to the bottom of his trial’s unceremonious dismissal.

Ex-venting against Wheeljack’s mouth as his mate leaned back, Knock Out gazed at him with dim optics. “You realize I’m not going to rest until-” He began, Wheeljack rolling his optics.

“Blah blah blah. I know. It can’t wait until I’m done properly welcomin’ you home, Red?” Smirking, the Wrecker put a hand to Knock Out’s face and brushed a thumb across his lip plates. 

“Absolutely not.” Knock Out said firmly, the smirk falling a little. “As thrilled as I am that I finally get to come home to you, Jackie, I need information.” 

“I know.” Frowning, Wheeljack pulled away from Knock Out and moved to sit on the berth with a huff. “I know, I know.” He repeated. “Where do you want me to start?” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were being called as a witness?” Knock Out folded his arms, gazing down at the paler mech. 

“Because I couldn’t. It was against the rules.” Wheeljack waved a hand as he spoke. “Magnus is all about rules.” 

“Alright, I’ll forgive you that even if it irritates me.” Knock Out narrowed his optics. “What in the world happened during that recess?” 

“I brought the Council’s attention to matters bigger than a dead human.” Wheeljack’s words were cryptic, and when Knock Out let his field creep out to relay his frustration, the Wrecker looked up at him in a long suffering manner. “I gave them video footage taken of the Wreckers while they were under Impactor’s leadership. When Kup went missing during the war.”

“Incriminating video footage?” Knock Out asked in a small voice.

“Very much so.” Wheeljack met his optics without shame. 

“Of you?” Knock Out took a step closer to him and Wheeljack stood with a soft laugh. 

“No. I never got up to the stupid slag the others did. I never killed prisoners of war. I never tortured anyone. I always killed ‘Cons in fair fights, or after leading the dumber ones into traps rigged to explode.” Wheeljack assured him, putting his hands on Knock Out’s arms.

“So you got demoted why?” Knock Out arched a brow. 

“The Wreckers got dissolved on the spot, pretty much. Ultra Magnus had the last word there. The Council agreed. Then it was pointed out that me being a former Wrecker and also part of the Command Staff was bad for business, so the Commander demoted me. I’m not even a grunt anymore. Just another refugee.” Wheeljack’s mouth twisted slightly and Knock Out leaned up to kiss him again. 

“Guess it’s up to me to bring in the credits while you look for another job.” He said with a sly smile, Wheeljack snorting and shaking his helm. “No more nasty surprises? All our secrets laid out in front of us?” 

“I’ve got nothing left. You?” Wheeljack murmured. 

“No more murdered murderers hidden in my past. Nothing else lurking in the shadowy corners of my brain module.” Knock Out said, pressing a hand to his own chestplate. 

“Good. Now, can I welcome you home?” Wheeljack growled, his armor ruffling. 

“Oh please do.” Knock Out breathed, letting Wheeljack lift him from the floor and shove him down onto their berth. 

Neither one of them wanted to broach the subject of who was currently laying in the med bay being tended to by the other members of the medical staff. That would be discussion of a topic that neither one of them could do a thing about and was likely best left alone.

Wheeljack kissed Knock Out until the charge grew to the point where it threatened to singe their glossa, then he pulled away with a gasp to begin mouthing at the pale column of his bonded’s throat. His hands slipped beneath armor that flared obediently for him, a deep rumble escaping his engine. 

“Frag, I missed you so much.” He breathed, Knock Out making a sound of agreement and arching up against him. 

“The feeling is very much mutual, Wheeljack.” Knock Out said breathlessly. His chestplates parted to bare his spark in blatant invitation, and Wheeljack didn’t hesitate to take him up on it. 

 

A staggering amount of energon had to be pumped into Soundwave’s frame before Ratchet even dared to consider the mech stable. He just hoped he hadn’t done the equivalent of pouring it down the drain by putting it into the mostly dead frame on the table. 

His readings were all wrong, like something in the saboteur’s frame was giving off interference. It continued to happen even after they figured out how to remove Laserbeak from where she clung to Soundwave’s chest. 

Ratchet and First Aid had no choice but to press forward and work without the use of the machines to tell them where to go. The CMO had done his share of battlefield surgeries, he just treated this like one of them.

The prolonged malnutrition that Soundwave had suffered was worse than anything Ratchet had seen in all his long years of practice. Many systems had been shut down entirely so more power could be put into crucial, life giving processes like vents, fuel pump and spark chamber. As a result, they had to boot up each one, one at a time, to make sure they would be able to have their function restored. 

Towards the end of whatever ordeal Soundwave had gone through, the mech had obviously been stationary. His form fatigue was so intense that it would take a great deal of rehabilitation for him to move his limbs on his own again. It was a miracle that he wasn’t rusting, but all illness aside, Soundwave’s frame was a marvel. 

Calling in Perceptor to look after Laserbeak, Ratchet was pleased that everyone involved in this restoration was at least keeping a cool head about it. Percy looked at treating Laserbeak as both a challenge and an adventure, Ratchet having to remind him that he was seeing to a patient and not a project. 

“She’s in good hands, I assure you.” Perceptor said with a reassuring flick of his field as he got the symbiote hooked up to an energon feed and began trying to bring her back online. 

“Not a single chromatinanite out of place, or we’re all dead mechs when Soundwave wakes up.” Ratchet warned in a strained voice. This was one of those times he sincerely wished he still had a full medical team, one of the times he actually found himself missing Pharma. 

All the while they worked, SR-7538 sat hunched on a bench in the waiting area, their field radiating misery and fear. None of it seemed to be directed at Soundwave himself, it seemed to have more to do with the Vehicon worrying they were going to be arrested or killed for their involvement in Soundwave’s return.

From what Ratchet had overheard while the Vehicon was interrogated by Bumblebee, SR-7538 had been working on a portable ground bridge for some time. It was a wonder of engineering, Ratchet had heard several of the science team talking about it fondly.

After they received a mysterious encoded message while doing rounds on the Nemesis, SR-7538 had eventually translated it as a set of coordinates. They convinced several of the crew of the _Nemesis_ to take the ship to said coordinates, and when they activated their ground bridge, Soundwave had staggered through. 

They maintained that they had no clue the messages were from Soundwave, and that they had no idea whatsoever where the ground bridge led to or where Soundwave had been all this time. 

Bumblebee figured they hadn’t actually done anything wrong, and after hearing from Ultra Magnus that he himself had cleared SR-7538 for the portable ground bridge project, decided not to arrest the Vehicon or press charges of any sort. 

“So why are they still here?” Ratchet muttered to the younger mech after an hour or two of work, having decided to take a break to refuel himself. 

“They said they’d rather stay and see if Soundwave’s going to make it. Apparently Sounders treated them pretty well while they were working aboard the Nemesis under Megatron.” Bumblebee said, mouth turned down and arms folded as he gazed at the cowering Vehicon. 

“They might be waiting here awhile. Tell them to go home.” Ratchet said, returning to the berth to see if there was anything more he could do while they waited for Soundwave’s systems to register their manual reboot. 

“His spark meter is still throwing off weird readings.” First Aid informed the CMO as he came over. “And no one I’ve talked to has any clue about his medical history. He was apparently ‘a very private mech.’” 

“His personal physician would have his medical history.” Ratchet said, glaring at the spark meter. “And I know where to find him.” 

“Yet that doesn’t seem to bring you any relief. Do I even need to query?” First Aid said, reaching in to adjust some of the connections within Soundwave’s open chassis. 

“Can you handle this for the time being? I need to go speak to Ultra Magnus.” Ratchet said, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ve got this. We’ve got this.” First Aid gestured to Perceptor, who nodded in reassurance at Ratchet. “You go do what you need to do.” 

 

They had reached the point in the project where ‘good enough’ had replaced Shockwave’s need for perfection. There weren’t enough supplies left for perfection, but the empty husk resting on the work table was so close to the originals that no one would notice unless they were looking for differences. 

There was of course the matter of the spark… none of their attempts to split the sparks harvested from the Well had been fruitful. All the sparks had snuffed almost immediately upon being touched by Shockwave’s energon blade. 

They were too young, too fresh. He and Flatline had no choice but to insert one whole into the shell and hope that it took. They had to have faith that everything would be set into motion before anyone had the chance or the need to look behind their new Vehicon’s chest plates.

The result was satisfactory. The spark was young and frightened, but grateful not to be snuffed like all the ones before it. The Vehicon cowered after coming online and could barely speak, but while they waited for the rest of the plan to come to fruition, there would be time to teach it. 

This was their only chance. They had to get it right the first time.

This of course meant that Shockwave was going to need to address Flatline’s… vices. The surgeon was acting more and more like an Empty as the days passed and it was beginning to worry him. He needed Flatline to see this through, he would hate to have to kill him. 

Flatline had been getting the Predacons to round up stray refugees who hadn’t found their way to safety. He swore it was for the sake of the project, but on more than one occasion Shockwave had caught him not only forcing spark merges on the other bots to gather intel instead of using the cortical psychic patch he had managed to rig up, but also consuming the energon in the bots lines once he had gleaned all he could from them.

“What do you expect?! You’ve got me running back and forth from the Well every few days, Shockwave! If your mutts would stop keeping so much of the energon they find for themselves, we wouldn’t have to be having this conversation!” Flatline protested when confronted about his bad habits. “Our bodies and our processors need more than rations to achieve greater success. I’m just taking it upon myself to remedy that.” 

Scans done on Flatline while he recharged showed nothing physically wrong with the mech, so the problem must have been with his processor. War made all organisms some degree of depraved, but this was getting out of hand.

Shockwave honestly expected more of an argument to come from Flatline being shunted from the physical experimentation side of things to the programming one, but he seemed almost relieved. 

“Sitting at a desk, managing paperwork and algorithms seems like a way to keep my energy levels from dropping so rapidly.” Flatline said, waving a hand in a dismissive manner. “Your little brats can go out to the Well and take care of harvesting in the future?” 

“That is the idea.” Shockwave said, not letting his guard down for a second. Flatline had become very unpredictable. 

“Very well. I’ll set myself up a proper workstation. Do we have the resources for that?” Flatline asked, turning to regard him casually. 

“I don’t care what resources you use so long as you get results. Try not to waste any, however, seeing as they are disappointingly finite.” Shockwave said, large red optic fixing on his partner. 

“I will not only waste little of your resources, but also your time. I’ll try to have a workable strain by the end of the month.” Flatline said with a toothy grin.

 

The last thing Knock Out had wanted or expected was to be called back into Ultra Magnus’ office that evening. He had been enjoying a much needed recharge in his comfortable berth, snuggled up to the warm and softly purring chassis of his Conjux when his communicator jolted him awake. 

The Commander sounded urgent, so Knock Out didn’t bother trying to make himself look more than publically acceptable before heading to the door. He remembered at the last minute that he wasn’t supposed to be wandering about alone, so he woke up Wheeljack. 

“You gotta be kiddin’ me.” Grumbled the ex-Wrecker, his processor clawing its way to consciousness. “I just started rechargin’!” 

“And I’m on parole. If you don’t want me to end up in jail again, take me to see Ultra Magnus.” Knock Out hissed. If he had to be awake and disgruntled, then Wheeljack would be too.

Eventually managing to get Jackie upright, Knock Out shuffled him to the door and let his lover lean grumpily against him while they made their way to the Commander’s office. He left the bruiser snoozing as he leaned against the door frame, knocking and entering at Ultra Magnus’ soft summons from within.

“Here I am, sir.” He said with a smile as he moved to sit in the chair in front of the Commander’s desk. “Something the matter?” 

“Yes.” Ultra Magnus replied, looking at Knock Out with a rather frustrated air about him. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to temporarily change the conditions of your parole.” 

Figuring it had been something to that end, Knock Out tapped his claws briefly on his knees and kept smiling. He nodded in what he hoped was an understanding manner at the Commander, who ex-vented and leaned forward so his elbows rested on his desk, his digits linking. 

“You were Soundwave’s attending physician aboard the _Nemesis_ , correct?” Ultra Magnus asked. 

“I was the attending physician for _everyone_ who served aboard the _Nemesis_ , sir.” Knock Out’s brow arched. 

“Ratchet is having trouble treating him without as complete a medical history as he can get his hands on. Are you still carrying that medical history in your memory banks?” 

Not liking at all where this was going, Knock Out straightened and vented in slowly. “I am, of course. I don’t tend to delete those sorts of files.” He said.

“Since it would likely be uncomfortable and against your ethics to simply give the file over to Ratchet, I’m making an amendment to your parole. I need you to help them treat Soundwave.” Ultra Magnus sounded almost pained by this.

“To what end, if I may ask, Ultra Magnus sir?” Knock Out took a sudden, keen interest in his claws and he heard a barely audible but no doubt still threatening growl from Ultra Magnus’ engine. 

“We’re not planning to use him as any sort of leverage if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve been trying to foster peace between the remains of our factions for some time now with Strika’s help, and fixing Soundwave just to use him for information would be a step backwards.” Ultra Magnus explained, his tone icy. “You have a duty of care to see all those around you are in good health, do you not?” 

“Of course I do. I didn’t take all those oaths for nothing.” Knock Out looked up at the Commander with a frown. 

“Then you’ll have no problem assisting Ratchet in making sure Soundwave makes a full recovery.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t quite a demand, but it came very close to being one. 

“Of course, sir.” Part of Knock Out wanted to flippantly ask if it could wait until morning, but that wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors. Instead, he nodded and got to his feet, Ultra Magnus also standing. “I will report to the med bay immediately.” 

“Your new apprentice will meet you there, along with the CMO.” Ultra Magnus lifted his chin. “Good luck.” 

“Thank you sir.” Knock Out nodded politely at the much bigger mech and exited the room, nudging Wheeljack awake so that he could see him to his post before heading home to finish recharging. “Well then. That wasn’t quite what I was expecting.” 

“You unner arrest?” Wheeljack slurred, yawning hugely. His optics were barely lit and his shoulders were slumped heavily. His exhaustion was clear over the bond, Knock Out hoping it wouldn’t negatively affect him while he was trying to work. 

“No, I’m back on duty. Never a moment’s rest for a medic on call.” Knock Out sighed dramatically, leaning up to give Wheeljack’s cheek a kiss. “Go sleep. Don’t worry about me. I’m in my element here, after all.” 

“If Soundwave attacks you, just headbutt him.” Wheeljack informed him, tapping the extension on the front of his own helm. “S’how I stopped him.” 

Remembering that Soundwave had in fact kicked Wheeljack’s aft up around his audio receptors despite the big mech cracking his visor with a well aimed headbutt, Knock Out just murmured an affirmative before shooing Wheeljack away. 

The med bay was dim and quiet, but of the surgery theatres was brightly lit. Making his way towards it, Knock Out paused when a figure rose in the darkness of the waiting area and approached him. 

“Hello again, sir.” Otto said in greeting, raising their hand. 

“Let me guess. You’re my apprentice?” Knock Out asked in surprise. 

“Yes.” If the Vehicon had a face, they would no doubt be blushing. As it was, their field swirled with a mix of humility/pride/honor. “Ratchet asked around about candidates. Apparently I came highly recommended.” 

“Well then. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Knock Out said with a wicked grin, pushing open the door of the theatre and striding forward. “First things first, good evening gentlemechs-”

“And lady.” Otto said behind him, Knock Out turning around with a blink. 

“And… lady.” He corrected himself, turning back to face an unimpressed Ratchet and an unreadable First Aid. “Have you detached all of his symbiotes?” 

“I was only aware of the one.” Ratchet said, optics widening. 

“There are in fact two of them remaining with him, though he used to have six.” Knock Out approached the berth and fought off a shiver. As creepy as Soundwave was when he was awake, he was far creepier when he was offline. “You obviously knew about Laserbeak, but not Ravage. In order to detach Ravage, however, we’re going to need to roll him over.” 

“That would mean removing his restraints.” First Aid observed nervously.

“Yes. But there are enough of us here that if he decides he wants to spontaneously boot up and attack us, we might be able to get him back onto the berth.” Knock Out tried to sound sure of this, but Ratchet’s soft, derisive snort indicated he hadn’t really succeeded. “The only way to get clean readings is to get that symbiote off of him.” 

“Then we have no choice.” Ratchet leaned over and deactivated the restraints, all four of the bots in the room holding their collective breath for a moment while they waited for Soundwave to wake up. 

When it became clear there was no way he was coming online, Ratchet got Knock Out to help him roll the silent mech over onto his side. From there, First Aid held him up while Knock Out gingerly removed something that was attached to Soundwave’s back strut. 

Delicate and intricate, the object was lay on a nearby tray, then they eased Soundwave back down and reapplied the restraints. 

“There. Nothing to it.” Knock Out said in a breezy tone, like he wasn’t standing there covered in condensation with his cooling fans running nervously. “Since he also seems to have no energon in him whatsoever, I’d say we’re in no danger of Ravage coming online just yet either. My suggestion would be to put the little pitspawn in restraints as well, however, just in case.” 

“Restrain him how?” First Aid was staring in bewilderment at the thing on the tray. It wasn’t much bigger than Laserbeak and didn’t look at all like a bot of any shape or form. 

“A cage, maybe? With a stasis field?” Knock Out suggested, Otto perking up and moving to locate one. When she had moved out of line of sight, Knock Out looked at Ratchet both accusingly and imploringly. 

“She has considerable skill.” The CMO said in his defense, shrugging. “She’s just one of the candidates, and seeing as she seems to know you personally, I thought it was a good place to start.” 

“Call me bitter, but I didn’t expect myself to end up having to babysit a Vehicon while I was trying to work.” Knock Out muttered. 

“I think she’ll surprise you.” First Aid said with a soft chuckle, then Otto was returning with a specimen tank and a stasis field generator. 

“Will this work?” She asked, holding them up. 

“Might be a little snug, but we’ll make it work for now.” Knock Out said, pulling up Soundwave’s files and beginning to go through them. “Now, let’s see if we can’t figure out how to wake Sleeping Beauty here.”


	16. Chapter 16

The worst feeling in the world for any medic was the fear that a patient was just too far gone. The worry that no matter what you did, they might not get better. They might not wake up. Their spark might still gutter. 

Right now, Knock Out was experiencing the feeling multiplied by three. Despite everything they had done, Soundwave, Laserbeak and Ravage were all still unresponsive. Their sparks were spinning, their processors were registering activity albeit on a very low level, but they wouldn’t power up. 

“Better that they stay sleeping. We’re still not ready to handle Soundwave, let alone all three of them at once.” Ratchet commented. He was standing next to Knock Out and gazing down at the dark visor over Soundwave’s face. 

Knock Out could tell it was still bothering the other medic despite his dismissal. Ratchet had been in a worse mood than ever, and it wasn’t just the normal anger they were dealing with. Ratchet was moping. 

“After this long, I’m tempted to say it’s best to move them into palliative care.” Ratchet said. “I’ve done everything I can for them.” 

“They’re still alive, Ratchet.” Knock Out reminded him. “We can’t pull the plugs yet.” 

“They’re taking up space that could be used for patients who actually stand a chance of recovering.” Ratchet countered. 

“Would you look at the time? I can’t believe we almost missed our midday refuel!” Knock Out said firmly. “Why don’t you run along and fetch us a cube? Make it mid-grade for you, sir. You know how an empty fuel tank affects your mood.” 

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Ratchet spluttered. “Need I remind you, you’re still on probation! You can’t be left alone in here!” 

“Then call that apprentice of mine to come in here and supervise me while you go take a break!” Knock Out demanded in irritation. “You’ve hardly taken a moment for yourself since tall, dark and spooky came back from the Shadowzone!”

“I don’t have time to take a moment for myself.” Ratchet growled. “If you haven’t noticed, we’re a little short staffed these days!”

“And we are working on changing that. Why don’t you let Otto and I handle everything else today. Go get some rest. I can always call Ultra Magnus and have him make it an order.” Knock Out said haughtily, folding his arms across his chest.

Ratchet opened his mouth to argue, then wound up simply spluttering and turning away with a wave of his hand. 

“Fine.” He barked. “Have it your way. I expect the task list to be complete by the time I return.” 

As Ratchet stormed off in a huff, Knock Out frowned at his retreating back. It was at times like this that he wished there were someone around who could properly wrangle the CMO. Threats and bargaining only went so far these days and the last thing any of them needed was for Ratchet to work himself into a preemptive meeting with the Well.

Even if he hadn’t known him well, it was at times like this that Knock Out missed Optimus Prime.

He picked up the task list Ratchet had put together for the day and sighed. As he began to peruse the contents, Knock Out heard the sound of transformation from somewhere in the room and stiffened. 

“The more things change.” A voice hissed, raspy with disuse. The words were followed by the not so subtle creak of struts, and a muffled groan as the owner of the voice stretched. “The more they stay the same.” 

Knock Out turned slowly to face the speaker. He knew, deep down, who the voice belonged to but he still felt the need to be sure. He shouldn’t have been at all surprised that they had waited until Ratchet left the room to ‘wake up.’ 

“And what precisely do you mean by that, Ravage?” He asked in a cool voice, EMF snapping back against his frame so as not to betray the anxiousness that filled it. “If you’re trying to imply you’re as sneaky as ever, that much is evident.” 

The tank that had contained the deactivated symbiote now held a small felinoid. He settled back on his haunches and curled his long tail around himself, bright red optics fixed on Knock Out with unsettling intensity. 

“I’m as good at my job as you are at yours.” Ravage said with a slight bow of his helm. “I express my gratitude only because you saved my host’s life despite your deep seated fear and suspicion of him.” 

“Of course.” Knock Out muttered. “As always, I am a medic first.” 

“Seems you’re a medic and nothing more these days. How long did you wait before scrubbing your brand off?” Ravage asked, helm tilted to one side. 

“Awake for five minutes and already trying to get a rise out of me. Here I thought you had very little in common with your fallen brothers, Ravage.” Knock Out replied dryly.   
“Going for the low blows so soon? Tacky.” Ravage scoffed, his audio receptors giving an irritated flick. “I remember when our verbal spats would be downright long winded. Whatever is the matter, Knock Out? Haven’t got the stamina anymore?” 

“See this list I’m holding? I need to have it finished by the end of my shift or Ratchet will peel my paint.” Knock Out waved said list for emphasis. “And since I’d much rather stay on this side of prison bars, I have every intention of seeing that it’s done.” 

“Ever the lapdog.” Ravage said with a quick smile. 

“I prefer the term ‘opportunist.’ I’m shameless, I admit it.” Knock Out retorted. “Besides, who are you to call me a dog when you’re the one playing dead like a well trained turbofox, hm? I thought you were supposed to be a felinoid!” 

“I’d watch your glossa if I were you.” Ravage said mildly before raising a paw to his mouth and nibbling something from between his talons. 

“Or you’ll what? You’re not very threatening in that cage, you know.” Knock Out said with a waggle of his finger. He turned and came face to chest with someone who had been standing very close behind him, a yelp of surprise escaping him. “Hey! Watch where you’re… going… you-” 

As his words trailed off and his optics lifted, Knock Out felt a chill run down his backstrut. 

The conversation with Ravage had been the perfect cover, it seemed. So engrossed in their verbal sparring, Knock Out hadn’t heard a sound, but somehow Soundwave had not only woken up but had gotten off the medical slab.

His venting was laboured and his biolights were dim. He slumped a little, not entirely upright. His cables were only partially extended and static flickered around the edges of his visor. It seemed a miracle he’d gotten up at all, and Knock Out was justifiably terrified as well as impressed by the feat. 

“Soundwave! Good to see you’re up and around.” Knock Out said in a nervous tone. He tried to smile, but it was a weak and wobbling attempt that he hastily aborted. He reset his vocalizer and took a step back. “Maybe you should sit down though, you’re still not in very good shape.” 

In the tank, Ravage paced back and forth. His tail lashed in agitation as he stared expectantly at his host. Soundwave tilted his helm slowly to the side, one hand lifting to point at the tank. 

“Yes, I suppose you would want to be reunited with your symbiote.” Knock Out observed, field so full of anxiety that it was almost solid. “Unfortunately, it’s really not my call to make. I’m just the hired help around here.” 

“The containment field is interrupting our comms.” Ravage said, still pacing. 

“Be that as it may, my servos are tied.” Knock Out said. 

He was not going back to jail. Not now, not ever. He wasn’t willing to risk his freedom to reunite these two, especially considering he knew just how much damage and havoc they could wreak together.

 

There was an audible rattle with each vent Soundwave took, and each one was also short and shallow. His struts were creaking from the effort of remaining upright. 

“Your comms aren’t working but your vox is, so talk to him.” Knock Out hissed to Ravage. “Tell him you’re just fine in there!”

“Or you could let me out and save yourself a world of trouble.” Ravage countered. 

“Hah! That is a highly unlikely outcome, let me assure you.” Knock Out replied. 

“Good afternoooo- oh sweet Solus Prime!” First Aid’s voice squeaked from the door. “Ratchet? Ratcheeeet!!” 

“Wait, no, don’t leave!” Knock Out called out hysterically as First Aid rushed out again, still shouting for the CMO. “Scrap.” 

“Just let me out, Knock Out.” Ravage said, now pawing lightly at the wall of the tank.

“Not gonna happen. I have a conjunx to feed and my finish will suffer direly if they put me back in jail!” Knock Out blurted. He edged to the side to put himself between Soundwave and the tank, and he winced when he heard a very low growl escape the lanky mech. 

“Just let me dock with him. I’m not going to encourage him to do anything untoward, Knock Out. But he needs me.” Ravage insisted behind him. “You know better than most how his processor works.” 

“How many ways do I need to say no?” Knock Out said. He glanced nervously at the door, wishing that First Aid wasn’t so easily spooked and wondering just where in the Pit Otto was when you needed her. “There is no way I am letting the two of you-”

“Soundwave!” Ratchet suddenly barked, interrupting Knock Out’s continued denial and making his field swell with desperate relief. “What do you think you’re doing?!” 

Soundwave’s visor filled with furious red static and a loud error noise sounded as he turned to face Ratchet. 

“You are in no shape at all to be up off that berth! I’m amazed you were able to stand at all let alone make it across the room.” Ratchet scolded as if he were talking to one of his Autobots. He stormed over to Soundwave without a hint of fear, a scowl on his faceplates. “Don’t you give me that look. Sit down at least! I don’t want to have to pick you back up off the floor!” 

Far from chastised, Soundwave hissed and wobbled disconcertingly, his cables giving a feeble lash at the medic. Ratchet batted them aside and took hold of Soundwave’s arm. “Hyep ep ep! As your doctor, I outrank you and you’re going to do as I tell you! I didn’t waste all that time and energy fixing you just to have you tax yourself and fall back into stasis, now sit down!” 

Obviously being woken from a much needed recharge made Ratchet more surly than usual. 

“No.” Soundwave said simply, then pointed at Ravage once again. 

“Yes yes, I’ll see you two are reunited, but first you’re going to listen to reason and sit your aft back down on that medical berth!” Ratchet snapped in reply. 

“Promise.” Soundwave ground out with difficulty. The subtle tremors from the effort of remaining upright were becoming more pronounced shuddering and he was swaying where he stood. 

“I promise. I’ll put Ravage on the berth with you as long as you sit down.” Ratchet said. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Knock Out said with a hint of panic. 

“Your concerns are noted.” Ratchet said gruffly and cast a glance at him. “The promise still stands.” 

Soundwave remained where he was, silent but for his laboured venting. He slowly leaned his weight against Ratchet and nodded after a long hesitation.

“Thank you for being reasonable.” Ratchet grumbled as he helped Soundwave back to the berth. “Knock Out, bring that tank over here please.” 

“Ratchet, sir. I feel I need to protest again.” Knock Out said as he did as he was asked. “I don’t think you understand-” 

“I understand the risks very well, thank you.” Ratchet interrupted. “Soundwave isn’t faking his weakness or pain. He’s in no shape to go anywhere with or without Ravage’s help. If you’re that concerned, you can wait until Otto comes in and have her escort you home.” 

“And leave that list unfinished? Thank you, but no.” Knock Out said haughtily. “I can’t earn a paycheck if I don’t put in the work. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

He set the tank down on the tray next to the berth, deactivated the stasis field and stepped back. Soundwave wasn’t the only one too weak to put much effort into movement, Ravage struggled just as much as his host. He couldn’t open the tank on his own, so Knock Out hesitantly lifted the top off it and released the symbiote. 

It wasn’t a terribly touching reunion. As soon as Ravage scrambled awkwardly from the tank and landed on Soundwave’s lap, the host gave a shuddering groan of relief and powered down very suddenly. Ratchet had to scramble to catch him before he slid off the berth and onto the floor, and Knock Out rushed to help with a muffled sound of surprise. 

“Perhaps it’s out of line for me to say, but I feel that putting me back behind a stasis field is not exactly in anyone’s best interests.” Ravage said once Soundwave was secure on the berth once more. 

“It’s going to take some convincing. Ultra Magnus will likely be uncomfortable with the notion of letting you run free.” Ratchet commented as he frowned down at the freshly inert Soundwave. “I can’t say I’m comfortable with the thought either.” 

“Understandable. But it’s going to be a necessary inconvenience.” Ravage insisted. “As long as he can connect to my comm, he won’t cause trouble. I’ll stay in the tank if it’ll make you feel better, but the stasis field can’t go back up.” 

“Hm.” Ratchet ex-vented slowly and rubbed his chin in thought. “We can put weights on top of it. You’ll likely be unable to lift them off on your own. I will trust you not to attack whoever comes to give you your fuel rations.” 

“It’ll be like keeping a sharkticon as a pet.” Knock Out said unhelpfully. 

“I’m no one’s pet.” Ravage spat, hackles raising. 

“Well of course you’re not. I just deflect with poorly timed humor when I’m thrust into uncomfortable situations.” Knock Out said with a roll of his optics. He waved his hand in a dismissive manner. “How in the world did he do that? He’s in worse shape than Megatron was after that space bridge explosion.” 

“A bit of an exaggeration, but not by much. His form fatigue is so advanced, I wasn’t sure he’d be able to lift his helm once we woke him let alone get himself off this berth.” Ratchet said with a shake of his helm. “He’s remarkable.” 

“Never ceases to amaze me.” Knock Out agreed with a nod. 

“If you two are quite finished, Soundwave could use a bit more fuel and maybe even a wash.” Ravage said with a twitch of his ears. There was a hint of appreciation for their admiration in his field and a pleased lilt to his tone. 

“We’ll get on that. Or rather, Knock Out will add it to his to-do list. Back in your tank now.” Ratchet said as he stood with a creak of his aging struts. 

“Yes sir.” Ravage hesitated, looking up at Ratchet. “Thank you for your trust. I don’t know why you did that.” 

“Because the war is over and we’re in the business of second chances.” Ratchet sighed, cast a glance at Knock Out and headed to the door. “Now, I have a dire need to recharge. Try to keep the emergencies to a minimum for a few hours, will you?” 

“I will endeavor to do so, but in this madhouse, I can’t make any promises.” Knock Out snorted.


	17. Chapter 17

Some medics were of the opinion that music could make for a better healing environment. Knock Out was not one of those medics, and he was certainly of a differing opinion when it came to music like the stuff he heard when he entered the infirmary that morning with his escort in tow. 

Not only was it music, it was Earth music. And not just any Earth music… it appeared to be something like disco. Who in the name of Primus was playing disco in his medical bay?

“What is that racket?” Knock Out asked, his pointed audio receptors lowering in protest and his field growing prickly with discontentment. 

First Aid obviously didn’t mind the racket, as he was wiggling his aft to the thumping beat and humming along. He smiled in Knock Out’s direction, waving in greeting as he probably wouldn’t be heard speaking over the volume the disco played at.

“Seriously?” Knock Out complained, a huff escaping him as he folded his arms across his chest. “How am I supposed to work like this?!” 

“Hey! You’re here!” A voice chirped. “Brother, he’s here!” 

“Finally.” Another voice muttered, and LD-4426 stepped into view. “You’re late. We were expecting you fifteen minutes ago.” 

“Oh, excuse me, sorry to have kept you waiting.” Knock Out scoffed. “I would have been here sooner, but my escort was taking his sweet time in collecting me! Now will you please turn that down, I don’t want to have to shout!” 

“Sorry, this is the best part!” LD-4427 whined as she danced in place behind her brother. “Just another minute!” 

“So this is your doing?” Knock Out asked. “Is this part of my punishment?” 

“No.” LD-4426 sighed dramatically. “Though I understand the feeling well. Honestly, being stationed on Earth was the worst thing to have ever happened to us for many reasons, the biggest one being a certain someone’s terrible musical tastes.” 

“Your WHAT?! Tiiiiiin roof! Rusted…” LD-4427 belted out. 

“Why are you both here?” Knock Out demanded once the song was blissfully ended. 

“Well, I’m your apprentice of the day.” LD-4426 said. 

“And I’m your first patient!” LD-4427 chirped.  
Knock Out raised a brow at them both. He scanned LD-4427. “You’re not injured. What exactly seems to be the issue?” He asked in a dry tone. 

“This.” LD-4427 removed her battle mask to reveal the raw components behind it. “See the problem?” 

“No?” Knock Out said impatiently. 

“Well, there’s no mouth there, silly. And I want one.” LD-4427 said as if it ought to be obvious. “You said before you’re the best cosmetic surgeon on Cybertron, so are you up to the task?” 

Looking at her in surprise, Knock Out couldn’t help but smile. “Well now, this is something different! Something better than patching up yet another poor refugee, that’s for sure. Of course I’m up to the task!” He declared. 

“Great! I’ve already penned myself into the schedule. I had to shuffle some stuff around but there wasn’t any triage-y stuff happening that couldn’t wait. According to my brother, of course.” LD-4427 said. 

LD-4426 handed Knock Out the schedule, and a quick glance over it showed a few serial numbers but not the one belonging to his apprentice’s sister. The first name on the list was ‘Roam.’ 

“Is that you then? Roam? Your name?” Knock Out asked dubiously. 

“Yep.” LD-4427 said with a pleased pulse of her EMF. “Much less of a mouthful than my serial, don’t you think?” 

“Hm.” Knock Out glanced at her, then at her brother. “And you? Do I still call you by a serial number?” 

“No.” LD-4426 said hesitantly. “I’ve chosen a name. Rather, my sister chose it for me and I found it to be… satisfactory. You can call me Bushfire, sir. It’s a pleasure to be training under you today.” 

“And while you two are busy in there, I’ll be busy out here.” First Aid piped up as he made his way over. “We found a few medics amongst the refugees, and I’m going to be giving them the tour.” 

“Not much of a tour, but I’m sure Ratchet will be pleased to have more hands on deck.” Knock Out said. Inwardly, he felt that ugly slither of fear that often made its way through his internals when the discussion about medical crew came up. His freedom hinged on the medical team being understaffed, after all. “Anyone I may know?” 

“Not sure. I haven’t met them yet, so I couldn’t say for sure.” First Aid said with a shrug. “I’m sure you’ll meet them sooner or later. Good luck in there!” 

“Thank you, but I hardly need it.” Knock Out boasted. “Come along, let’s get you prepped, Roam.” 

 

“I’m beginning to doubt they’re together at all.” Springer said over morning fuel. He was slumped in his chair and staring across the room at Wheeljack. Kup followed his gaze and grunted. “I’ve never seen them interact even. Except that time in the med bay after the lob ball game that got out of hand. And that was all professional concern and slag.” 

“The way Jackie reacted when the… when Knock Out was tossed in prison, I believe they’re together.” Kup remarked, then lifted his cube and drained it. “No one goes off like that unless they got a flame burnin’ inside ‘em for someone.” 

Wheeljack was laughing at something Bumblebee said, pounding his fist on the table. 

“I feel like it’s a practical joke.” Springer muttered. 

“Maybe I was givin’ ya too much credit when I stuck up for ya, tellin’ everyone you’re smarter than ya look.” Kup snorted and arched a brow. “C’mon Springer. You’ve gotta accept it sometime. No use holdin’ a grudge.” 

“Jackie was one of us. Now it feels like he’s a stranger. It doesn’t feel like there’s any Wrecker in him anymore. He’s gone soft.” Springer said. He sat up a bit straighter and sighed. 

“Maybe he’s got the right idea.” Kup suggested. 

“What? Lifelong boot camp dictator things that the soft gooey ex-Wrecker’s ‘got the right idea?’ Kup, did all those headshots finally catch up with you?” Springer asked, affronted. 

“Did you forget that the Commander disbanded the Wreckers officially? All of us are ex-Wreckers now, kid.” Kup pulled out a cygar and stuck it in his mouth. He stood with a creak, reached over to pat Springer’s broad shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s not waste the day sittin’ round here mopin’.” 

“Who’s moping?” Springer asked, rolling his optics as he got up. “It’s just… out of all the mechs he coulda chose, he chooses that one? He chooses the Butcher? I mean, reputation aside, Knock Out cries when his finish gets scuffed. He spends more time preening than practicing medicine. Jackie on the other hand prides himself on his battle scars! Hell,he’s still got the one you gave him in boot camp! It’s not a good match!” 

“Knock Out also has a deep appreciation for hot rods, and Wheeljack’s always been one. You’ve seen his new wheels, he’s hot stuff and Knock Out knows it as sure as Jackie does.” Kup chuckled. “I’d say it ain’t that bad a match. ‘Sides, after hearin’ all the doc had to say durin’ his trial, I think I get it.” 

“Glad one of us does.” Springer muttered, still very clearly pouting. “Hey, optics to yourself, cannon fodder.” He snapped at a passing Vehicon that was staring at him. The mech quickly ducked their helm and muttered an apology. “This place is crawling with them. I don’t know how any of the Autobots can stand it.” 

“Cause some of ‘em have wrapped their heads round the fact that we ain’t at war anymore, Springer.” Kup said as he lit his cygar. No smoking in the mess hall, but no rules against hallways. “I’m beginnin’ ta think that maybe there’s a torch you’re carryin’ round.” 

“What, for Wheeljack? No way. That ship sailed a long time ago, Kup. You know where my spark belongs.” Springer snorted, arched a brow at Kup. “Getting jealous, old mech?” 

“Nope. Life’s too short to get twisted up in knots over who’s swappin’ cables with who. That bein’ said, if Knock Out does anythin’ to hurt Jackie without him askin’ for it first, I’m gonna rearrange that pretty face of his.” Kup muttered.

 

Knock Out didn’t stop at giving Roam a proper intake. He insisted once it was finished upon fixing not only her paint, but Bushfire’s as well. Gone was the flaked deep purple of the Genericon, here to stay was a steel grey with yellow piping for Roam, blue piping for Bushfire. 

Doing this much work on them, Knock Out was able to see subtle differences that he hadn’t noticed. Roam was almost a head taller than Bushfire, and her wingspan was greater. Bushfire had more delicate talons on his servos where Roam’s digits were rounded. She was built more for fighting where he seemed more of a proper Seeker shape. 

When Knock Out mentioned the differences to them, Roam shrugged and jerked a thumb at her brother. “Bushfire thinks that it has to do with our sparks.” She said. 

“Yes, that is one theory.” Bushfire said as he admired himself in the full length mirror Knock Out kept in the med bay. “Our sparks, despite being split from the same source, are slightly different. Mine is more blue, hers is laced with this purplish colour. The energy is slightly different as well. We’ve never had the time or resources to figure out why that is.” 

“Is that why you wish to be my apprentice? To gain access to said resources?” Knock Out asked.

“Not the only reason for choosing this particular path.” Bushfire said, looking over his shoulder at Knock Out. “We weren’t particularly well maintained, being expendable. I took it upon myself to learn basic field first aid and spent my spare time patching up what Megatron deemed too insignificant to bother a proper medic with. Otto was the same. She took care of the grounders in her squadron, I took care of the flyers in mine.” 

“Industrious of you.” Knock Out said, a slither of shame moving through him. The more he learned about the Vehicons, the more guilt he found himself riddled with. And he didn’t like feeling guilty. “Well, you two are finished and there’s plenty of time left in the day. Let’s teach you some proper medicine, hm?” 

“I did find this experience to be excellent practice.” Bushfire remarked with a friendly flick of his EMF. “But yes. I think I’d like to learn something a bit more practical.” 

“Let’s look at the list then.” Knock Out replied with a smile. 

 

By the time his shift was done, Knock Out was experiencing a deep seated and entirely satisfied exhaustion that he hadn’t since his academy days. It wasn’t that he felt he’d done good today, it was that he had done things he hadn’t been given a chance to in almost as long. 

He strode into the mess hall with a stretch and a swagger, a wide smile on his face. He located his bonded easily, hearing him before he actually saw him. Wheeljack was regaling someone with one of his Wrecker stories, some amusing antic that he and a mech named Seaspray had gotten up to. 

Taking advantage of the pause in the story his arrival caused, Knock Out cupped Wheeljack’s cheek in his hand, leaned in and kissed him deeply. After his initial surprise, Wheeljack returned the gesture eagerly, his optics having taken on a light of appreciation when they parted. 

“Hello to you too, Red.” Wheeljack said with a smirk. “Good day at work?” 

“An excellent day if I do say so myself. But don’t let me interrupt any further.” Knock Out said with a smirk of his own. “I want to hear more about this adventure of yours.” 

“Sure thing, KO.” Wheeljack said in that carefully enunciated way that Knock Out found so endearing. He launched back into the story and Knock Out leaned against him with a sigh of contentment.

The mechs on the other side of the table watched him, offering Knock Out a few curious glances before becoming engrossed in the story once more. 

“And then he says, ‘why use one bomb when you could use the whole box?’ The crazy fragger went running off with the box, straight into the middle of the hive. He barely got out of there alive, and lemme tell ya, those bugs never looked at him the same way again. They musta told all their Insecticon friends across the galaxy about it, cause every time Seaspray came across one after that, they turned tail and ran!” Wheeljack concluded to a chorus of laughter. 

“A logical reaction when you encounter someone who has killed most of your friends and family.” Perceptor’s voice piped up as the scientist daintily made himself at home across the table from them. “Even an Insecticon has the sense to fear a bogeyman.” 

“I dunno about you, but I’d turn tail and run if I saw Seaspray coming at me too.” Bulkhead chimed in from the next table over. 

Any tension that might have been lingering in the crowd with Knock Out’s arrival melted away into more laughter. It was nice to have a whole day unmarred by dramatics, to have it end on a note such as this. Knock Out find himself stifling a yawn behind his servo, felt Wheeljack slip an arm around his hips and looked up at him with a smile. 

“Time to go?” Jackie asked. 

“Mm, if it’s not too much trouble. You can always come back after you return me to our room.” Knock Out sighed. “I hate to steal him away, but I’m unfortunately not allowed to walk around on my own.” He informed those at the table. 

“Allow me. I just came for my evening ration after all. I have work to do and didn’t intend to get caught up like this.” Perceptor said and readied himself to stand. 

“You sure, Percy?” Wheeljack asked in surprise. 

“It’s no trouble.” Perceptor insisted, looking at Knock Out. “There is something I wished to discuss with the good doctor anyway.” 

Wheeljack looked from Perceptor to Knock Out, hesitation on his features and in his field. 

“It will allow you to continue captivating your audience.” Knock Out said, getting up. “I’ll see you at home later.” 

“Yeah. Sure thing.” Wheeljack said, still hesitant. 

As they exited the hall together, Knock Out glanced over at Perceptor curiously. “That was generous of you. What was it you wished to discuss?” 

“A project I thought you’d be the best to assist with. I wasn’t sure if was even allowed, but after seeing those Vehicons you altered today, I figured it was permission enough to approach you with this.” Perceptor said as he pulled a datapad from his subspace. “I did some work on my own frame after I was shot through the spark. Surviving made me realize that if I was planning on being on the battlefield in any capacity, I needed to be able to continue surviving.”

“Did you craft this alloy yourself?” Knock Out asked as he flicked through the pad. 

“Indeed. I believe your medic apprentices may benefit from having their own armour replaced with this. It’s rather impervious to weapon fire, and with such a mix of former enemies in close quarters, well… you can never be too careful.” Perceptor said. “I’d be happy to help outfit them, if you feel it necessary.” 

Thinking back to his conversation with Bushfire, Knock Out nodded almost immediately. “If they feel it necessary themselves, then I think it’s an excellent idea.” He said. “Thank you for this.” 

“Thank you.” Perceptor said. They pulled up outside Knock Out and Wheeljack’s hab suite. “And here you are. I hope you have a good evening. Contact me when it is time to approach your apprentices with this. I wish to explain a few of the logistics to them if they’re interested.” 

“Absolutely. Have a very good evening, Perceptor.” Knock Out said, slipping into his room with a wave. 

So. It seemed now that Knock Out wasn’t the only one with a type. He sent a pulse of affection along the bond to Wheeljack and felt the equally affectionate response. His adoration for his conjunx grew every day.


	18. Chapter 18

“Knock Out, if you’re not busy, I need you to get me more static bandages from the supply room.” Ratchet muttered and drew Knock Out from the boredom induced trance he’d fallen into while signing off on performance reviews. “Please.” 

“This paperwork isn’t going anywhere, so it would be my genuine pleasure.” Knock Out said as he stood and stretched. 

“Unlike my patient.” Ratchet said in irritation. Said patient was one half of a pair of drones that Arcee had taken it upon herself to bring back after a recent scavenging mission. He was a security drone that had an itchy trigger finger, a foul temper and was hell bent on protecting the sanitation drone that he’d been found with. 

“I see you over there!” The drone shouted at Bushfire, who raised his wings in indignation at the tone being used. “If there is a single chromatinanite out of place on his frame, I will remove your wings and shove them up your exhaust pipe!” 

Rolling his optics, Bushfire turned back to his task. His wings flicked in dismissal. “He’s fine. I’m literally only running a diagnostic scan, so you can just shut your tiny mouth and let the good doctor finish patching that wound!” He called back to the diminutive terror. 

“I’m okay! Really, it’s really fine. He’s just doing a scan, like he said.” The second drone raised a hand and waved over Bushfire’s shoulder to the first. “They’re trying to help.” 

Knock Out snickered as he strode from the room to fetch the requested bandages. The security drone had managed to survive fairly well in the wild after getting one of his legs chewed off by an Insecticon, but Ratchet’s attempts to rebuild the limb were slowed by the drone’s antics. Knock Out didn’t envy the CMO one bit. 

He opened the door to the supply closet and stopped short when he saw it was already occupied. There was a horrifying moment that passed as if in slow motion where Knock Out wondered if he had just walked in on Otto while she was self servicing, but then his processor registered she was holding a scanner in one hand. Cables were strung from the scanner to her exposed spark chamber. 

“Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t think-” Knock Out stammered into silence as his optics slid automatically to her exposed spark. 

“I-it’s not what it looks like, I swear.” Otto blurted. She half turned and made to disconnect the cables, her EMF radiating embarrassment. 

Knock Out stepped forward, put a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. He met her optics, his face twisted into an expression of concern, then he took the scanner out of her hand and stared at the readings. 

Otto fidgeted for a second, then drew in a slow vent. “All things considered, it’s actually looking really good today.” She said in an overly optimistic tone, a smile touching her lips as she looked up at him again. 

“There is nothing good about these readings, Otto.” Knock Out said bluntly. 

“W-well, no, that’s not true. After I got the battle armour removed, the readings have been more stable!” Otto protested. 

“I am going to be very frank with you. I have never, in my entire medical career, seen a smaller spark than yours. Never.” Knock Out said in a horrified tone. 

Otto said nothing in reply, simply snatched the scanner away, tugged the cables free and closed her chest plates. She lowered her optics, faceplates flushed and field pulling tight to her frame. 

“How did you survive the war with that thing?” Knock Out asked. 

“I was part of a comm unit. And when our lord and master wanted to punish my unit for something, we were sent to do security in the mines. I didn’t see much action down there.” Otto admitted. “Any battles I took part in, I stuck to the back of the line. I made sure I was there to patch up the other expendables once it was all said and done. There was only one time I wound up on the front lines, and that was when you and I met.” 

Knock Out gave her an expectant look. He had been wondering about the particulars of her claim that he’d saved her life once upon a time, so he hoped she’d elaborate. 

“My unit got caught in a grenade blast. I was knocked offline, which was unsurprising considering the sheer concussive force of the explosion. When I came to, the remains of my unit were scattered around me.” Otto’s shoulders hunched as she spoke. “You were there. I saw you crouched over RF-2363, or at least what was left of them.” 

Knock Out was beginning to remember. That battle had been one of many, but they’d lost a lot of their fighting force by the end of that one. Megatron’s orders had been to salvage as many of the Vehicons as he could. Not wanting to disappoint and risk his own finish being punished, Knock Out had been taking parts from those that had perished and sticking them in or on those that hadn’t. 

“So that’s the reason the serial number you first gave me didn’t correspond with the one on your arm. It’s not your arm, is it Otto?” Knock Out murmured. 

Otto shook her helm. “No.” She said. “The arm belonged to RF-2363. It seemed fitting that we were to share frame parts since we already shared sparks.” 

“More split spark twins? Strange that there should be so many of you, it’s a very rare occurrence.” Knock Out said. “What, did your twin get more of the spark than you?” 

Otto looked quizzically at Knock Out and frowned. “We weren’t twins. And technically, neither are Bushfire and Roam.” She explained. “They’ve always been close, that’s why they consider one another siblings.” 

“Their sparks have the same frequency.” Knock Out said. “And while Roam’s has a slightly different wavelength present, I have confirmed myself that they’re-” 

“They’re not split spark twins. That’s a natural occurrence. Their sparks weren’t split at birth, they were split well after.” Otto interrupted. “Sir… do you know nothing of our creation?” 

“I know exactly how the mighty Lord Megatron’s army of disposable soldiers was formed.” Knock Out replied haughtily. “He told Shockwave to make soldiers, Shockwave harvested sparks from the Well and did just that.” 

“And once the Well dried up and there weren’t anymore sparks to harvest, he started splitting the sparks he had to make his dwindling supplies go further. My spark was split into four. RF-2361 through RF-2364.” Otto said. “I know we all look alike, and I know the serial numbers all start looking the same after awhile too, but how did you never notice the similarities in spark frequency spread through the soldiers?” 

“When one is serving as what passes as a chief medical officer for the Decepticon army and serving Lord Megatron personally, one learns not to ask questions or pay too close attention to fine details like that.” Knock Out admitted, a flicker of shame moving through his field. 

“I understand.” Otto said, and nothing in her expression or her field hinted she wasn’t being genuine. “But the war is over now.” 

“And habits formed over ages as long as the war was are very hard to break.” Knock Out muttered. “I’m trying harder to be more observant, more sympathetic even. The changes we’ve been making to you and your brethren are helping.” 

He gestured to her faceplates, her fresh paint. With Perceptor’s help, they’d been giving the Vehicons some individuality. Otto’s battle armour had been removed and replaced with the sturdier and far lighter material that Perceptor had been working on. The harsh lines of a Vehicon soldier had been replaced with rounder edges, giving his apprentice a more approachable appearance. Deep purple had been replaced with red and white and gold. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Otto said, her weight shifting from one foot to the other. “You came in here to get something for Ratchet, I assume?” 

“Scrap, yes.” Knock Out said with a wince. “I better not keep him waiting.” 

“Probably a sound plan, sir.” Otto said with a slight smile. “I won’t keep you any longer, doctor.” 

A skillful distraction and change of subject. Knock Out had to give Otto props for ending the conversation without it becoming awkward, but he had so many more questions now. 

The Well had dried up a very long time ago. There was no way Shockwave had enough sparks to make as many soldiers as Megatron had aboard the Nemesis, even if he had split them multiple times. 

So where had the sparks come from? 

 

...

 

Skylynx wasn’t much of a scurrier, but that was the only way Flatline could describe the Predacon’s movement when it entered the cave that afternoon. Skylynx scurried through the lab and around the corner into the hall that led to the makeshift berth room. 

Scowling, Flatline rose to follow only to hesitate when Darksteel showed up. This Predacon wasn’t scurrying, but it certainly was slinking. In beast mode, belly pressed almost flat to the floor, it followed its brother into the hall. 

Since he was well aware the Predacons weren’t afraid of anything, especially considering nothing seemed to be able to hurt them, Flatline felt a chill move through him. Either Predaking had decided to turn his ire on the younglings, or there were Terrorcons about. 

His fuel levels were a little too low to risk powering up weapons, so Flatline reached over to grab a hacksaw from a tray of tools before approaching the cave entrance to investigate the cause of the Predacon’s strange behaviour. 

Shockwave and Predaking stood together near the cave entrance. They didn’t engage in conversation, simply stood staring out at the darkened tunnel. Flatline heard footsteps approaching and looked up as Predaking drew himself up in a threatening manner. 

“Anything I should be aware of?” Flatline asked Shockwave. 

The scientist’s helm extensions lowered ever so slightly in response, and his optic remained fixed on the tunnel.   
“Alright then.” Flatline said with a short ex-vent of frustration. 

A figure moved slowly into the light. The steady footsteps were unhurried. Flatline felt the approaching mech’s field before he could clearly make out who it belonged to. 

“It seems your guard dogs haven’t forgotten our last encounter.” 

There was no mistaking that voice. Shock and alarm rippled through Flatline’s frame, the mech quickly ducking his helm and pressing a hand to his chest plates in a sign of respect. 

“Their reactions are only logical.” Shockwave replied. “I instructed them not to attempt retaliation should we encounter you again, Lord Megatron.” 

“Indeed.” Megatron said. As he moved into the light, Flatline felt another flutter of shock move through him. 

Megatron looked very different than he remembered. 

“To what do we owe the honour?” Shockwave asked politely. 

“You have something of mine. I came to reclaim it.” Megatron replied simply. His optics fixed on Predaking, who let out a subtle growl of challenge. “I trust there will be no issue taken with that?” 

“You cannot claim what no longer belongs to you.” Predaking said with a lift of his chin and a baring of his jagged denta. “You speak of the spoils of conquest. My conquest.” 

“I suppose I do.” Megatron said, helm tilting to the side. “And I suppose we could battle for it, if that’s the case.” 

Predaking hesitated. Flatline didn’t blame him. Megatron was larger and looked far more powerful than he had the last time Flatline encountered him. Those purple optics…

Shockwave looked up at Predaking and gave a subtle shake of his helm. The Predacon scowled in response, snorted, then stepped back. 

“A wise choice. I would hate for something untoward to happen to whatever projects you might be working on here.” Megatron said to Shockwave. He stepped past Predaking, spared Flatline barely a glance before moving through the lab. 

“Is he here for-” Flatline began. 

“Correct.” Shockwave intoned as he turned to follow their reportedly fallen leader. 

“I can’t say I’m sorry to hear that. We hardly had the fuel to spare, after all.” Flatline muttered. “But how is he planning on-” 

“I do not care to question his methods. Or his reasons.” Shockwave interrupted. “We will pack up the machines we were using. And any other supplies he might require.” 

They could use those supplies themselves. But Flatline wasn’t about to argue. Something was decidedly off about Megatron and the faster they got him out of here, the better. 

“Take extra care when moving him. His spark is not yours to snuff out.” Megatron was saying to Darksteel when they entered the back room. 

“Move him yourself.” Skylynx snapped. Both young Predacons were fluffed up like angry birds, staying as far away from Megatron as they could. 

“Allow me.” Flatline said hurriedly, not wanting to make a scene. 

Megatron observed as he unhooked machines and carefully packed away everything he’d need to keep the husk on the medical berth alive. 

“There will be no need to move him from the slab. The hover function still works.” Shockwave said as he came to stand next to Megatron. “Are you certain you wish to take him? We may be better equipped here to sustain him.” 

“I am certain.” Megatron said, hands folded behind his back. “I wouldn’t wish to burden you with such a task while you’re obviously in the midst of something very important. Dare I ask what it is you’re up to?” 

“I leave that entirely up to you, Lord Megatron.” Shockwave replied. Cordial, but not reverent. 

“I suppose your results will speak for themselves.” Megatron said. 

Flatline glanced over at them as he packed the last of the crates. The tension was so thick, it was tangible. “That’s it. All set.” He said. “One mech’s trash is another mech’s treasure, it seems.” 

Megatron looked at him and raised a brow, saying nothing in return. Flatline met his creepy purple optics and smiled. 

Letting out a dismissive snort, Megatron stepped forward and activated the hover function on the medical berth. “I’ll leave you to it.” He rumbled. “I don’t expect I’ll be seeing you again any time soon.” 

A subtle threat, perhaps? ‘Don’t try and find me?’ Whatever the intent was behind Megatron’s words, Shockwave simply nodded at him in reply. 

Taking care to grin smugly at Predaking, Megatron took a spacebridge control remote from his subspace and pressed a button on it. A portal bloomed to life nearby, and he steered the medical berth and the crates of supplies through it. 

Flatline had never envied Starscream and his tumultuous relationship with their lord, and he certainly hadn’t changed his stance on that. He watched the lifeless Seeker strapped to the berth until both he and Megatron passed through the portal and it closed behind them. Saluting mockingly, he ruffled his armour. “So long Starscream. Rust in pieces.” He called cheerfully.

Shockwave stared at him in what might have been disgust. It was hard to tell since the mech didn’t have a face. 

“Well, the day’s not getting any younger! Back to work.” Flatline said, brushing invisible filth from all four of his servos before turning to head into the lab once more.


	19. Chapter 19

An isolation chamber was good for keeping patients safe from outside contagions, but equally good for being reinforced to keep the denizens of the medical bay safe from a patient. In this case, it was a mutually beneficial arrangement for all parties as being able to walk around and not being strapped to a table all day made Soundwave much less agitated, and also kept him where Ratchet could see him. 

The infrequent distractions weren’t even unwelcome either. Every so often, Soundwave would tap on the chamber wall to get Ratchet’s attention and they’d exchange words in a manner of speaking. Mostly, Ratchet would talk and Soundwave would display information or pictures on his visor in response. 

Ravage sometimes supplied conversation as well, or else translated for Soundwave when he was unable to get his point across accurately. 

All in all, things seemed to be going pretty smoothly with them being present. Bushfire and Otto would engage the two Decepticons from time to time, but there was a great deal of hesitation in their conversations. Ratchet supposed it had something to do with them not wanting to seem to be too familiar. 

SR-7538 was a different story. The Vehicon had absolutely no qualms with carrying on long, indepth conversations with Soundwave through the barrier that separated them. It was even worse when Perceptor was in there with them. It was as if they weren’t even speaking Neocybex anymore, but as long as they were enjoying themselves and not making trouble, Ratchet was content to ignore them. 

He expected another long day of tuning out background noise when Perceptor’s voice preceded him up the hall outside and was surprised to see that the scientist was followed into the bay by Miko, the human girl clad in the Apex Armour. 

“Dude. That is sick.” Miko was saying in delight. “And you just put yourself back together? One handed?” 

“It wasn’t so difficult. I made sure to do all the delicate work with my dominant servo beforehand.” Perceptor said with a smile. “Good morning Ratchet.” 

“Hello Perceptor. Miko.” Ratchet said, arching a brow at the human. “What brings you here?” 

“I missed you guys. I wanted to visit! So I got permission to pop by for a few hours.” Miko said as she made her way over to Ravage’s tank. The symbiote was in recharge currently in root mode, curled up like an Earth feline might. “Cool!! You never told me you had cats!” 

“He’s not a cat.” Ratchet said with a snort. “And certainly not a pet, so don’t even get that thought in your head.” 

“Aw.” Miko pouted playfully, turning her attention back to the tank and raising a hand to tap on the side of it. 

“Miko.” Ratchet scolded. 

“What? I’m not hurting anything.” Miko asked, looking round at Ratchet with a roll of her optics. “It’s like tapping on a fish tank.” 

“It is nothing like that. Please keep your hands to yourself while you’re in my medical bay.” Ratchet said sternly. 

“Sheesh.” Miko muttered, turning back to stare into the tank. “Where’d you get him anyway?” 

“From Soundwave.” Ratchet replied, his attention mostly back on his paperwork. 

“What?” Miko asked, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “What do you mean, ‘from Soundwave?’ That’s not funny, Ratchet. We sent him to the shadow zone.” 

“Well, he found his way back out.” Ratchet said, frowning down at Miko. “So please don’t-” 

The burst of noise from the isolation chamber was so sudden, so high pitched and so loud that Ratchet’s warning turned into a loud shout of alarm. He clapped his servos over his audio receptors, watched Miko and Perceptor both do the same. 

Ravage woke suddenly and rolled to his pedes, hackles up and teeth bared in a furious hiss. 

Beneath the piercing shriek was a thumping bass, a furious drumming that could be felt from the feet all the way up to the helm. Ratchet stumbled as he felt his spark stutter, grabbed the medical berth near him for support. He could hear Perceptor cursing loudly. In fact, Miko was doing the exact same thing. 

“Soundwave!” Ratchet cried, looking at the isolation chamber. “Stop! Please stop it now!” 

“What the frag is going on?” Miko shouted over the noise. Behind her, the tank Ravage inhabited fell to the ground and smashed open as the symbiont threw himself against the side with a great deal of force. “What the- Whoa!!” 

Miko was driven to the ground by Ravage’s surprising weight and pinned on her face. Wickedly sharp talons scraped down the back of the Apex Armour. 

“You!” Ravage snarled. “You did this to us?!” 

“Hey, get off me!” Miko shouted, panic evident in her voice despite the fact that not even Predaking had been able to get through the suit of armour she wore. A huge dragon was somehow less frightening than this panther who was spitting fury. “What gives?” 

“You trapped us in there… we almost Starved to death! Do you have any idea what that feels like, fleshling? Do you?!” Ravage cried. 

Soundwave’s energy levels were rapidly dropping. Ratchet struggled upright, condensation rolling down his frame. “Soundwave, stop, please. You’re going to hurt yourself!” He pleaded. 

Soundwave responded to this by raising one fist and beginning to hammer on the wall of the isolation chamber. His visor was white with rage and edge with crimson. 

None of this was going to be good for diplomatic relations, and certainly not good for the armistice. Ratchet wasn’t sure how much of the sound would translate through the comm, but he had to put a stop to this. And to do that, he had to get Miko out of here. 

He opened a channel to Ultra Magnus desperately. 

 

It was hard to make out what Ratchet was saying over the unholy noise in the background, but Ultra Magnus got the gist of it. His wince drew a look from his sparring partner, who tilted her helm to the side inquisitively. 

Ultra Magnus mouthed an apology before patching through to Ops to request a ground bridge be opened in the medical bay. 

“A spot of trouble?” Strika asked when Ultra Magnus turned his attention back to her. 

“It seems so.” Ruefully, Ultra Magnus deactivated the chess board that hovered in the small opening of the bars of Strika’s cell. He breathed out a slow sigh. “I’m unsure I’ll be back this evening, so consider this match officially on hold until further notice.” 

“Of course. I will continue my conquest later, hopefully in the not so distant future.” Strika said with a hint of amusement. 

She was a brilliant strategist. She’d won almost three times the matches he had. 

“Hopefully so.” Ultra Magnus spared Strika a slight smile before closing the gap in the bars and heading off. 

It was obvious that despite the isolation, Soundwave was dangerous. Even separated from his partners, he was a force to be reckoned with. Whose idea had it been to allow Miko into the command center? No one had checked with him… 

 

The undulation of the deeper tone that Soundwave was emitting hurt more than the steady thrumming had. While he was thankful the mech seemed to be running out of steam, Ratchet wished he would just stop altogether. 

He wasn’t sure how much more they could put up with, and he didn’t have the focus or energy to withstand the assault as well as make it to Miko to pull Ravage off of her. 

The sound of the spacebridge opening made Ravage hesitate, and that was all Miko needed. She slammed her elbow into the symbiont and sent him tumbling off of her, then rolled to her feet. 

“Dude!” She cried in irritation more than anything else. “Like Soundwave wouldn’t have torn us apart if we hadn’t stopped him? Like he wouldn’t have totally decimated our friends?” 

“I don’t care about any of that. We almost died because of you. Soundwave almost died!” Ravage snapped in response. 

“Miko! Get out of here! Get through the bridge!” Ratchet shouted. 

“What, and leave the fight to you? No way! I’m indestructable right now!” Miko retorted. 

“You might be, but we’re not! And neither is my medical bay! There are patients here! Get through the bridge now!” Ratchet demanded. 

“You’re not my boss! You can’t tell me what to do!” Miko planted her hands on her hips and looked at Ratchet haughtily. 

Before the long suffering medic could reply, the door was effectively kicked down. Ultra Magnus swelled into the room, seeming even larger than life than normal. With one servo, he grabbed Miko by the arm and tossed her bodily through the spacebridge portal. 

With the other, he levelled a blaster on Ravage, who froze in place. Soundwave let the noise he was making feebly waver into silence. Past the ringing in his audials, Ratchet could make out the sound of cooling fans running on high within the isolation chamber. 

“Merciful Mortilus…” Perceptor wheezed from where he lay on his back on the floor. 

“Close the bridge now.” Ultra Magnus demanded over the comm. His servo was steady, the blaster holding its target without so much as a twitch. Ravage stared into the barrel, his armour lifting ever so slightly and his tail swishing. 

When the bridge closed, Soundwave’s distress was much more evident. He was panting and his plates rattled. Perceptor looked up when the slender mech dropped to his knees on the floor. As Percy reached to lower the stasis field surrounding the isolation chamber, Ratchet let out a sound of alarm. 

“No! Don’t do that!” He cried. 

“What?” Perceptor frowned in confusion. “But he’s in distress, we should-” 

“Do not lower that field, Perceptor.” Ultra Magnus said, blaster still trained on Ravage. The symbiont was now sitting, motionless but for that still flicking tail. “Until we have contained the symbiont, Soundwave remains in isolation.” 

“You’re going to need better containment.” Ravage said. 

“Seeing as you likely could have gotten out at any point, you’re absolutely right about that.” Ratchet snapped, his leg struts protesting as he made his way towards Ravage.

With a glance in Soundwave’s direction, Ravage didn’t try to get away. “While I understand your hesitation in letting me in there with him, can I attempt to sway you?” He asked as he looked up at Ratchet. 

“No.” Ratchet muttered bluntly. “He does enough damage on his own. I don’t even want to think about what would happen should you be there to help him.” 

“Trust is a two way street.” Ravage said, his helm tilted slightly to one side. “Remember that, Ratchet.” 

It seemed rather cryptic but Ratchet soon understood why Ravage said such a thing. As they searched for a more secure place to keep the symbiont, Ravage cooperated fully and didn’t once try to escape. 

 

When Knock Out asked if he wanted to spend time together tonight, Wheeljack hadn’t been thinking of going for a long drive under the stars. He had been interested in only one bright, glowing orb and that was the one behind Knock Out’s chest plates. 

Driving was nice, especially when he was following Knock Out up a narrow road to the top of a spire. He loved that bumper, he loved those curves, but it wasn’t helping his cravings at all. 

“You are really revved up there, and I’m not talking about the horsepower under your hood.” Knock Out snorted out a laugh after a few minutes driving in silence. “I can feel you, you know.” 

“I wish you were feeling me a bit more, if you catch my drift.” Wheeljack muttered in response, and Knock Out let out another laugh. “I’m glad we’re spendin’ time together, don’t get me wrong Red, but I had somethin’ different in mind.” 

“We’ll get there, I’m sure. We always do, don’t we?” Knock Out asked, coming up to the top of spire. He transformed into root mode and stretched, waiting for Wheeljack to join him. “I had to get out of that base for a bit. I feel like I’m going stir crazy.” 

“I hear ya.” Wheeljack transformed, but as he stepped up behind Knock Out and tried to embrace him, his mate stepped away. He reined in his frustration and followed Knock Out to the edge of the spire to sit down. “Nothin’ like some fresh air after a hard day’s work?” 

“I didn’t work today. The bay was a mess, something happened with Soundwave, so I was told to stay out.” Knock Out said in a distracted manner. “No, no work for me… I got to stay home all day.” 

“Why didn’t you call me?” Wheeljack asked with a frown. “I’m not exactly swimmin’ in work. I was lobbing most of the afternoon! I coulda come kept you company.” 

Knock Out looked at Wheeljack in surprise. His field betrayed nothing, pulled so tightly against his frame that Wheeljack could barely feel it. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured. 

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on, KO?” Wheeljack asked. “Are we okay?” 

“Oh for the love of Primus, yes!” Knock Out said hurriedly. “We’re just fine, it’s not us at all.” 

“Where’s your head then?” Wheeljack reached over to take Knock Out’s servo, relaxing a little when their digits laced easily together. 

“You know, and please don’t take offense to this but… I’m not sure you’re the one I need to talk to about this.” Knock Out said after a moment. 

“Ouch.” Wheeljack said, looking away. 

“It’s a medical thing.” Knock Out said, looking over at Wheeljack. “That’s all it comes down to.” 

“Yeah, okay.” Wheeljack squeezed Knock Out’s servo gently. “I get it. But is there anything I can maybe do to help you out?” 

“Hm.” Knock Out shifted so he was facing Wheeljack a little more. “I’m not sure. You see, I learned something the other day and I’m gobsmacked I didn’t know it sooner! I’ve been trying to figure it all out, and my processor is going a mile a minute-” 

Wheeljack’s brows slowly rose, his optics widened, then he ex-vented slowly, rolled his optics and dragged Knock Out in, smothering his words with a kiss. 

Squeaking, Knock Out pulled back and swatted him, looking scandalized. “Rude.” He scoffed. 

“You’re right, I’m not the one to talk to about this.” Wheeljack said with a smirk. 

“That’s what I said!” Knock Out growled, beating his fists lightly on Wheeljack’s chest. “This is important, Wheeljack!” 

“I get that! I do, Red, I just don’t know what the frag you’re talking about. And you’re adorable when you get goin’ like that.” Wheeljack caught both his servos, kissed his palms and gazed at him in amused adoration. 

“Rude and incorrigible!” Knock Out complained.

“Have you tried talkin’ to Ratchet about this?” Wheeljack asked, making an effort to have a serious conversation. 

“I haven’t yet. I’m not sure he’s the right person either.” Knock Out huffed, arms folded under his chest. “I hate to say it, but I need to talk to a Decepticon. An engineer, a medic, something to that extent.” 

“We’ve got a few of those, don’t we? Back at the base.” Wheeljack asked with a slight frown. “We gotta have at least one.” 

“Not the right one.” Knock Out sighed. “Who I really need is the last person in the world I’d want to find and speak to.” 

It bothered Wheeljack a great deal that he had no idea how to make this better, how to ease Knock Out’s mind. His attempts to push reassurance over the bond were lost in the stormy sea of Knock Out’s contemplation. 

“Well.” Knock Out said, reaching over to pat Wheeljack’s leg. “No use sitting out here feeling sorry for myself. I think I’m ready for you to take me home.” 

“Yeah?” Wheeljack couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t relieved to hear that. 

“I am not one to keep people wanting. You had expectations tonight when I said I set time aside for just the two of us.” Knock Out smirked at Wheeljack, beckoning to him with a long talon. 

“Well, who says we gotta go anywhere. We’re the only two mechs around.” Wheeljack said in that gravelly voice he used when he was trying to be irresistible. He pulled Knock Out into his lap with practiced ease, the speedster’s vents hitching in surprise. 

“Twist my rubber arm, why don’t you?” Knock Out breathed. 

 

“I think it’s a bust.” Flatline said out of the blue, breaking the long silence that had blanketed the lab. 

Shockwave looked up, optic intense as it fixed on his working partner. “The formula?” He asked with a degree of concern. 

“Hm, no. Not the formula.” Flatline murmured. He pointed over to the corner with one talon and frowned. “That.” 

Shockwave could see he was pointing at the drone, but he didn’t return Flatline’s sentiment. “Please explain your reasoning.” He intoned. 

“Shall I list the many reasons for you?” Flatline asked with an incredulous tone. “For starters, it’s still mute. It should have learned to speak by now, all it ever does is download data into its memory banks. Secondly, that horrible paint you’ve put on it keeps flaking off.” 

“The paint doesn’t match the spark’s chosen chromatinanites.” Shockwave said in response to the second point. “We don’t need it to wear that colour for long. Only long enough to deliver the payload, which it can only do should you actually finish your part of the formula.” 

“It’s not going to fool anyone.” Flatline scoffed. “Furthermore, it’s so scared all the time that you can’t touch it without it practically rattling out of its armour, which doesn’t fit right because its spark keeps trying to reformat it. It can’t manage its charge. It stares creepily at me when I walk past.”

“Then don’t look at it when you’re walking past it.” Shockwave said, his patience wearing thin. “All things considered, I would say it is a success. Not a bust.” 

“A scientific success, perhaps, considering we seem to have created an individual entity rather than a soldier clone, but not a success so far as the project is concerned.” Flatline huffed. “As previously stated, it’s not going to fool anyone. Therefore, it’s a bust.” 

“That remains to be seen.” Shockwave said, his attention soon focused back on his work. 

“I suppose the only thing working in its favour is that we no longer have to waste our energon on Starscream, so there’s more for the little gas guzzler. Which is another reason I think it’s a failure.” Flatline continued. 

“You are wasting energon by talking faster than you’re working.” Shockwave pointed out. 

“Well well, someone’s finally showing a crack in that rigid exterior. Are you feeling the lack of fuel as keenly as I am, Shockwave? Getting a bit cranky?” Flatline asked with an amused snort. 

Shockwave lifted his helm and fixed his optic on Flatline once again. His stare was unblinking, unwavering, but Flatline didn’t seem at all affected. 

“You are doing little to convince me that you haven’t outlived your usefulness.” Shockwave said. 

“You still need me to finish my half of the formula.” Flatline said with a slight frown. “And statements like that aren’t likely to hurry me.” 

“I don’t need to remind you, I have the means to extract said information from you whether you’re willing to give it or not.” Shockwave burst out, his field rippling in irritation. “I highly suggest you get back to work.” 

“Suit yourself.” Flatline muttered. 

Shockwave ex-vented harshly, finials flicking in a dismissive manner. He was going to need to expedite his plans before his very last thread of patience snapped. It would be a shame if he had to kill Flatline before it all came to fruition.


End file.
